Death Bad
by walteryagami308
Summary: Walter White gets more than he bargained for when he realizes the notebook Saul gave him is actually a murderous weapon with a complicated - and deadly - history.
1. S1E1: A Sweaty Situation

Chaper One: Death Bad

Walt could feel the stress in the wrinkles in his forehead. The moist, sticky beads of sweat coated his brow. That son of a bitch, Hank, had gone too far this time. Before Hank knew, everything was fine. He essentially posed no existential threat to Walt - or his business. But now, the game's changed. Hank had thrown his balls into the court. Walt knew he had to reach Skyler somehow, to let her know what was going on, but first, he had to deal with Hank. He dialed Saul, his fingers soaked in sweat, sliding across the numbers. What Walt really needed was that new Iphone 4. That shit was the motherfucking bomb. But with the Government regulations and such, he knew that that was one aspect of a rich, luxurious lifestyle that he simply could not indulge in. Days before, Saul made a certain comment about sending Hank to Belize. Walt may have been skeptical at the time, to say the least, but he knew now that this was simply the perfect timing for Hank's tropical vacation.

"Saul?" Walt said.

"Hello, hello? Who's calling this number?" Walt heard in response, realizing that his sweat coated fingers had accidentally pressed the mute microphone option. He frantically unmuted his microphone.

"Saul! We need to talk. Now." Walt said with a growling tone.

"No dice, soldier, I'm in a bit of a pickle with a client right now. How about tomorrow at 5?" Saul replied, with the same sarcastic tone as always.

"You've got 3 minutes," Walt said before hanging up the phone. Walt tossed the phone on the floor of his car as he put his sweat-coated hand back on the steering wheel, which was now dripping. Walt sped up to a traffic light, before a bus full of elderly women pulled in front of him and the light turned red. Walt frantically honked his horn, yelling "Come on!" as the bus refused to budge and the old women gawked at him.

Filled with rage and coated in sweat, Walt put his car in reverse. He backed up just enough to put room for his car to gain speed and paused for a moment. Those bitches need to move. He shifted gears and rammed the bus, causing his car to jerk and smack his head against his steering wheel. Walt looked up, and noticed the bus had still not moved. Now he was really pissed.

Opening his car door, he stepped out and looked at the damage his car had done to the bus. It definitely was not 99.1% damaged like he would have hoped, but his car was definitely totalled. Now he was really in trouble. He pushed his car to the side of the road, then opened his car door and grabbed his cell phone. He dialed Jesse's number.

"What, bitch?" Jesse said the second he answered.

"Listen, Jesse, I need you, right now. I'm on Douglass Avenue. I-" Walter was interrupted as his phone fizzed out. His sweat had enveloped his phone so much in the dank mix that the phone was no longer usable. Walt screamed out, and almost went into another laughing fit as Jessie's car pulled up.

"Jesse, listen. I need you to take my car to some autoshop - get it fixed up. I'll cover the cost of the damages, just please-

"Yo, what the hell is going on here, man? How did you, uh-"

"JESSE!"

"Okay, fine, bitch! I'll do it!"

"Good. And, uhh, also, I'm going to need a ride to Saul's."

Huell's gaze was fixated on her. I bet her asshole tastes like peanut butter cups. Like lemon hot cheetos. Like italian sausage flavored lays potato chips. Like pizza lunchables. Like a kitkat bar. God, what I wouldn't do to have my tongue 2 inches deep in her shitter.

Suddenly, the glass window into the building shattered all at once. That one fella, the cuck, had burst straight through the window. He stood up and marched his way towards Saul's office door.

"OPEN THE DOOR SAUL! I KNOW YOU'RE IN THERE! I CAN HEAR YOU!" Walter screamed. Huell intervened slowly, moving over to Walter as his daytime fantasies were put on hold.

"Whats the rush?" Huell asks.

"NOT GONNA COME OUT!? ALRIGHT, FINE, PLAN B!" Walt screamed after only a second of silence, picking up the plant next to Saul's door. Saul quickly opened his office door to greet Walt.

"Hey, what are you doing out here, American Psycho!? You just trashed my lobby. You're gonna pay for that!" Saul bickered. Walt didn't hear a word of what Saul said.

"Saul, Hank's onto me. He needs to d-... I mean, he needs to go to Belize," Walt said, calming himself down as the sweat solidified and coated his skin in a sticky residue.

"Come in," Saul said, waiting for Walt to enter his office and then closing the door behind him, giving them some much needed privacy.

"Alright, so... Belize is not currently an option. My guy's in jail. But-"

"But WHAT!?" Walter exclaimed at Saul.

"But, I may have something else. Now, this is the last resort. This cannot be abused under any circumstances. Are you absolutely 100% sure you want to go through with this?"

"Yes. I need him dead, NOW." Walter slammed his fist down on Saul's table. The solidified sweat now began to liquify again as his body temperature heated beyond its normal capacity. Saul opened one of his desk drawers and pulled an envelope, you know one of them big orange thangs, out. It had something inside of it.

"Now, do not open that until you get home," Saul said cautiously.

"What do you mean? What the hell is this, Saul? Is this some kind of JOKE!?" Walt said, speedwalking across the room to Saul's location and grabbing Saul by his suit.

"No, no! Just open it up when you get home and it'll all make sense! And careful with my suit, man, it's Gucci." Walt let go of Saul's suit.

"If this is all some kind of tomfoolery... A prank, the kids call it... Hank won't be the only one going on vacation." Walt spoke coldly as he walked out of Saul's office, stepping on little pieces of glass on the way out as he hopped out the window yet again.

Walt opened the door to his house and entered to find that he was alone. Finally, he would be able to spend some time alone without his bitch wife complaining about the millions of dollars he'd made for his family or his crippled son getting in the way of things. He sat down on his couch in front of the TV, and opened up the envelope. He reached inside to find a small black notebook, with the words DEATH NOTE written across it.

"Is this some kind of..." Walt was unable to finish his sentence as he looked up and saw a seven foot monster standing above his coffee table. Walter screamed like he'd seen a mouse. In all the excitement, he was forced to release his bowels after turtling for the past hour.


	2. S1E2: Fuckin' Shit

Chapter Two

Walt looked up at the eight foot tall demon standing in front of him. Placing his hands on the ground, Walt lifted himself gradually off the ground. The fecal matter in his pants detached from his buttocks, causing a loud abrupt sloppy-squishy noise to echo throughout the room. As he continued to raise himself from the floor, the sound only gained in decibels. The noise was similar to mixing a milkshake.

"Hello there," said the beast in his hoarse voice.

"What... the hell are you?!" Walt exclaimed, freaking out.

"The name's Ryuk. I'm here because you touched that book."

"This? You mean... it's real? it works?"

"Go ahead. Try it," Ryuk said with a chuckle. Walt looked back at the book, which seemed to ominously await his using it. Walt sat back down on the couch as the shit in his pants began to sink into the fabric of the furniture. He felt it sliver its way inbetween his cheeks. "The human whose name is written in this note shall die," Walt started. This note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected," Walt let out a chuckle. "I know exactly whose name I'm going to write in here," he said, confidently. Ryuk laughed as Walter removed a pen from his shirt pocket and began to write a name unfamiliar to him: Bogdan. Humans have such stupid names, Ryuk said to himself. But then he checked himself once he realized that his name is motherfuckin Ryuk and that shit is stupid AF. Ryuk had learned his lesson.

"Did it work?" Walt asked, looking up at Ryuk after finishing his detailed cause of death. "See for yourself," Ryuk said, signaling towards the TV's remote control. Walt turned on the TV and changed the channel to the news. Ugh. They were talking about the Trump campaign's collusion with Russia. That's such bullshit. What would Donald Trump have to gain from talking to a bunch of fucking commies? Walt changed the channel from Fake News CNN to his local Fox News, where he saw something that made him very happy. A reporter stood in front of a retirement home as she described an incident in which a middle aged man shot up this particular retirement home, and then, narrowly escaping the cops, went to a preschool and shot it up as well - afterwards, he defecated on a busy sidewalk and began to jerk himself off as onlookers scowled and gawked. Walter pointed at the TV. "Now, this, this is what I like to see," he said, with a wide grin. "What we need, is more of this," "HUMANS ARE SO INTERESTING," said Ryuk. "Do you happen to have any apples?" Before Walter could answer Ryuk's question, there was a knock at the door. "Shit," Walt said quietly to himself. He put the notebook back in the envelope and the envelope under the couch. Another knock. "Coming!" Walt exclaimed before opening the door to Jesse. Walt's grin quickly turned to a frown.

"What the hell did I tell you about coming to my HOME!?" Walt said, sweating, the feces in his pants beginning to liquify. Walt could feel it dripping down his leg.  
"I got your car fixed, bitch. Now where's my money?!" Jesse yelled at Walter.

"Your money? I'm sorry, did you just use the words 'my money'?"

"We're 50/50 partners, bitch! Give me my money!"

"I don't think 50/50 means me doing all the work and you creating messes that I have to clean up. I-" Walter was unable to finish as he slipped on the puddle that his shit had created underneath him, pushing him forward into Jesse. Interpreting this as an attack, Jesse pushed Walt back and kicked him while he was down. Walt responded by grabbing Jesse's leg and tripping him, forcing Jesse to fall into Walt's shit. Jesse, confused and angry about the brown residue covering his body, jabbed his fingers into Walt's eyes. Screaming and flailing, Walt began to grab Jesse in an attempt to get back on his feet. "What the fuck is this? Is this shit?" Jesse said in a moment of distraction. Walter took advantage of this and got on top of Jesse, starting to grab his throat. Jesse, however, being physically healthy was able to reverse the roles and grab Walter as he forced him into a chokehold. Realizing his only means of escape, Walter began doing the worm dance on his back to move himself towards the couch, using the slippery traction of the floor to propel himself forward. He managed to rip a piece of a page from the Death Note while keeping it hidden under the couch, Jesse being unaware as he was focused on killing Walter and ending his suffering that has been contious for the past year of his life. Walter, again using his worm move as a technique to manuever himself, managed to grab his pen as well.

Walter grunted and gasped for his breath as he scribbled down the name 'Jesse'. Before he could continue the rest of his name, Jesse released his grip on Walt's neck and began to sob.

"I was gonna fucking kill you, man." He said through his crying. Walter looked at him. What a fucking idiot. What a real fucking joker. A goddamn fool.

"I'm so sorry." Jesse said as he placed his hands over his face, his sobbing escalating into hysterical crying as he thought about the horrible things he has done and how his life is constant misery and pain and there is no way out of it and it will eventually kill him and nothing will ever be normal because he will be traumatized forever even if he gets out of the meth business there is no feasible way that he will be a normal human being adjusted to society.

"Listen, son. It's okay," Walt said. "We all have our moments, just-"

"NO! You don't get it!" Jesse screamed. "Jesse. I know exactly what you're going through. You haven't seen Andrea in a long time, right? That must be it,"

"Well..." Jesse said, struggling to come up with any other explanation. Walter was right. Jesse would listen to whatever he had to say.

"I remember when I started cooking meth, Skyler stopped letting me eat her ass," Walt chuckled. "Yeah, before I was cooking, every night it was like, Bootyville: Population? Me," Walt began to reminisce. "Anyway, once I was able to convince her that I'm only doing what's right for my family, we went right back to it. Not a single night has gone by in the past six months that I have not had ass for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert. Yeah, I'm rollin' in it now," Walt finished. Then, inside of his now drenched pants, he felt a vibration. It was his phone - a text from Skyler. "We'll be home in 5 minutes," it read.

Walt released his bowels a second time.


	3. S1E3: Gotta Go

Hank simply could not believe what he had just seen. His eyes were glued to the TV, which was showing graphic security footage of a bald man's reign of terror through the DEA offices. The man held a 12 gauge shotgun, and shot at everything he saw. But that was not the worst of it: the entire time, he kept insisting with a shrill scream that he was infact Heisenberg.

This was evidence enough for Hank. There was no way his brother could've possibly planned such a thing. No, this was work more morally ambiguous than even that of the Cartel. Hank began to accept that his brother was not Heisenberg, but found it even more difficult to accept the harder fact that he had been wrong. So, so very wrong. Like this was on some dumb ass shit. He got up to go apologize to his brother immediately.

Walt was able to stall his family temporarily, as he texted Skyler back to get some KFC on the way back. He and Jesse were in the middle of having a heart-to-heart while cleaning up the gallons of shit that stained Walt's floor as the doorbell rang. "Damn it!" Walter said under his breath as he looked out his window to see Hank and Marie's car. He instructed Jesse to hide in Holly's room while he spoke with Hank. Walt opened the door.

"Hey, listen, buddy. Uhhh... this isn't easy, but I've come to realize that... well, I was wrong, Walter," Hank said, immediately as the door opened. "And..." Hank tripped over his words before he pulled Walter in for an extremely tight hug as he cried into Walt's shoulder.

"I should've listened, man! I'm so sorry!" Hank weeped. Walter smiled behind his back before tuning back to his initially disoriented expression.

"That's great, uhm... Thank you," Walt said, awkwardly. He felt Hank shaking slightly as he sobbed against him.

"I mean it. You've always been so good, and here I am, big dick junior excusing you of being a criminal mastermind. You're just not capable of that. I should have realized that when you fucked up Grey Matter! Haha." Hank cried again while laughing slightly at his own ignorance.

"Hank...I'm relieved to hear this. Do you need anything?" Walter said, trying to avoid his urge to write his name down in the death note and never have to deal with this motherfucker again.

"Are you busy? We could just chill for a while, man. Well...no. I do have work. Damn. I better get back to it buddy. Nice chat, seeya later." Hank said with a smile, heading back to his car.

Hank put the key in his ignition, and instantly felt and heard the explosive bass of his subwoofer as Humble by Kendrick Lamar began to play. From Walt's point of view, it sounded almost as if an earthquake was happening. Hank waved goodbye to Walt and watched Walt wave back, awkwardly. God, Hank was so wrong about that man. I mean, how would the guy who looks like the dad off of Malcolm in the Middle do anything with his life? As far as Hank was concerned, he was dying of cancer, and that was essentially a blessing from God himself.

As Hank entered the DEA offices, he noticed certain hallways and offices were blocked off due to the shooting that had taken place. Looks like the boys from APD had their job cut out for them. Once Hank entered his office, he received a call from his secretary.

"Hey Sweet Tits," Hank said upon answering the phone.

"Don't call me that, please. It makes me uncomfortable," she replied. These youngsters and their political correctness, thought Hank. Back in the good ol days, women knew their place. Let me tell you something that is important for you to understand every single woman to ever live: they will not appreciate you. Biologically, women are incapable of appreciating you. Your male friend will appreciate you more than any woman will. Yes, this includes your mother, sister, girlfriend - all of them. The thing is, today's women are worth absolutely nothing. Not even for sex. This new wave of feminism that brainwashes women into thinking they should be independent is a cancer on society, especially for men. Additionally, women are of no beneficial factor for you because they are not capable of the same level of thought that you are. What do you think about? Thought provoking shows like Breaking Bad, Death Note, and so on. Women will simply talk to you for hours about their problems that they are unable to resolve like children (they resemble children in several ways, mental capacity being the number one resemblance), and spend literally every dime you will ever make. They don't give a shit about your personality. Thinking that is just being a pathetic beta. This is the real world, women crave money and power and will fuck your life up if you have neither. Don't waste your time thinking they like anything else. It's biologically proven.

"You've got a meeting with a Japanese investigator in 30 minutes," Hank's secretary said.

"Who the hell from that little island wants anything to do with me?" replied Hank. "I don't have time to sit around playing with chopsticks and samurai swords,"

"They said he goes by the name of L," his secretary replied. Hank waited a few seconds and then hung up the phone. L, the globally famed detective, wanted to work with him on the Heisenberg case? Really? Hank was confused, but unable to deny the honor. Hank found himself so caught up in his thoughts of working with L that by the time 30 minutes had passed, he had consumed five entire bottles of water. There was no bathroom on the way to the meeting room, but Hank figured this would be kind of an "in and out" kind of deal anyway. He could hold it.

Hank stepped into the room to see what looked like a troll doll with black hair on the couch. He sat down on a chair facing the figure to see a sickeningly pale face in front of him with dark circles under his eyes. He looked like that dude from the band KISS. Is KISS capitalized? Honestly I've only ever listened to like, one band by them but they're pretty alright. I have a t-shirt with 'boys don't cry' and the lead singer's silsofososguusolou however you spell that word I don't have time to google it on it. Yeah he looked like an 80s alternative band singer.

"Hello, ASAC Schrader," L said, retaining a blank expression.

"Hey, hello," Hank replied becoming more nervous. Was this really L?

"I've come to talk to you today about the Heisenberg case. You are directly involved in the operation on finding the identity of Heisenberg, is that correct?"

"Yes sir. It's all on my shoulders!" Hank said, letting out a chuckle. He felt his bladder contract and felt the need to take a leak even more now.

"I'm going to need to see all of the documents that are directly related to any appearances of him and any possible known identities that could tie to him," L said, ignoring how uncomfortable the man in front of him looked.

"Sure thing, can do, let me just...stand up...and go get that for ya..." Hank said, slowly lifting himself up as his urge to piss had amplified to such that he was unsure if walking would be possible without releasing a torrent of piss into his pants. Grabbing the folders he had set on a desk, he brought them back over and laid them on the coffee table that separated the two men. He sat down again, his face becoming blood red from how hard he was struggling to contain his bladder. All he could think about was Niagra Falls, swimming pools filled to the top with water, and beautiful flowing rivers in nature. Glancing down at the bottle on the table, he stared at the water while the sound of a faucet dripping echoed in his mind. He could hear L talking as he went through the documents, but Hank's focus was on the feeling of his internal organs rupturing and spraying piss all over his guts. The faucet continued to echo in his ears as the blood vessels in his eyes ruptured, causing him to have bright red eyes as he removed his gaze from the water bottle.

"Mr. Schrader? Are you listening?" L said, somewhat uncomfortable upon noticing this man had been staring at a water bottle for the last 4 minutes or so.

"YES," Hank forced out of his mouth as he shuffled in his seat.

"I need your full attention for a moment, I am explaining what I know on this case. Is that clear?" L replied, now looking back at the documents.

"YES," Hank replied, feeling like he was going to piss himself at any second.

Hank diverted his gaze again to be directed on the water bottle. After a few minutes of zoning out, imagining how good it would feel to have his ass over a toilet bowl right now, L spoke loudly which alerted him to the conversation.

"I am going to talk with my team for a moment. Please do not exit the room," L said as he got up and left the room, leaving Hank to himself.

"YES," Hank said, somewhat too late as L had left merely seconds ago.

Immediately, Hank grabbed the water bottle he had been staring at. Unzipping his pants and pulling his dick out, he forced it into the opening of the bottle and opened the dam, releasing a heavy stream of piss into the water bottle. It sounded similar to using a sink faucet to clean off a metallic bowl. Loud, echoing and moist. It wasn't even a minute later that he heard a knock upon the door. Quickly, Hank shoved his dick back into his pants, jumped over the couch and placed the water bottle back on the table. He then attempted a backflip onto the couch but failed, having to sit back down like a normal fucking human being.

L stepped into the room, awkwardly hunched over, and took a seat on the couch facing Hank. He paid no attention to how sweaty and out-of-breath Hank was.

"Before I begin, may I have a sip of what I assume is lemonade that you have in that bottle?" L asks with a slight innocent smile on his face.

"Uhhh...It's really sweet, I'm not sure you'd like it," Hank says nervously.

"That's perfect," L says, grabbing the bottle and taking a chug of it. He lets it sit in his mouth before swallowing, and stares at Hank for a solid minute with silence. Hank began to get nervous again.

"You Americans have such interesting tastes in food," L said with a shrug, expecting his drink to be less warm and more like lemonade.

"Well, uh, what have you got on this Heisenberg case then?" Hank said, hoping to derail the fact that L just took a swig of his fresh piss.

"There is a 7.567434573% chance your brother inlaw, Walter White, is Heisenberg." L said, staring blankly at Hank. L took another swig of Hank's fresh lemonade.


	4. S1E4: Do Not Test The Tendies

God damn that bitch is fine. I bet her ass tastes like a medium handtossed pepperoni pizza from Dominos. Like a strawberry poptart. Like sour skittles. Like a bowl of warm spaghetti-o's. Like-

Suddenly, Huell's daydream was interrupted by several loud noises that seemed to be coming from the vent above him. He slowly got out of his chair and listened to the loud impacts from within the vents as he stared into them. "SAUL! SAUL!" Huell heard a familiar voice yell as the noises seemed to come closer and closer. Eventually, the opening to the vent came off along with a skinny bald man covered in dust. Walt got back onto his feet and ran like an olympic sprinter to Saul's office as he screamed Saul's name several times. Once he entered the office, he found Saul doing paperwork.

"You know, mankind has already invented a means of you entering my building without having to crawl through vents or break through windows. It's called doors," Saul said, to no avail.

"I need someone to come over to my house and clean up some shit,"

"Whoa, we got a pottymouth over here," Saul said, sarcastically.

"Saul! There is literal FECES on my doorstep right now. I need it to be disposed of immediately," Walt bickered.

"Alright, alright, I'll send Mike over," Saul replied.

Mike absolutely hated his goddamn life. He was just trying to make some money for his niece but the motherfuckin US Federal Government kept giving him all this shit. And as if he hadn't been given enough shit, now Saul calling him talmbout some "go clean up Walter's shit". Fuck this, he thought.

"Is this all of it, Walter?" Mike began. "Got anymore feces for me to clean up? Did you pee your pants, too?" Walter was pissed. This old man was roasting him. "Fuck you," Walter said. Mike giggled like a school girl.

"Yeah, well, have a good day, Walter," he said, before leaving. As Mike opened the door to leave, he saw Walt's wife carrying buckets of KFC with a shocked expression. Damn, what he would give for a woman with an ass like that. Mike had not had sex since 1982.

"So, were there only three dangerous criminals in the house before I got here, or did you bring even more of your friends?" Skyler said unreasonably as she set down the 5 buckets of KFC on the kitchen table. Walt really loved his tendies.

"Well, if you would stop being a BITCH for one second, I would explain everything to you, but that's not going to happen is it?" Walt said as Jesse and Skyler looked at him in shock.

"What did you just call me?" Skyler replied, not in genuine disbelief but just because she wanted to piss Walter off more because she's a horrible human being.

"I called you a BITCH," Walter repeated himself. Skyler stood speechless as Walt walked over to the table, reached into one of the buckets, and pulled out a chicken tender. He shoved the entire thing in his mouth and started the very difficult process of chewing the entire thing.

"Mfhm ghef FUH!" Walt said with a mouthful of delicious tendie. After a few more seconds, he finished chewing it and swallowed it. He pulled out another tendie and began waving it around the room as if it were a gun. He began waving it at Skyler.

"Now, the thing you don't understand, Skyler," Walt began, pointing the tendie in her face. "Is that a man needs his space. See, Jesse here's got a woman, what is her name Andrea?" Walt continued, turning the tendie toward Jesse as he spoke of Andrea.

"Y-yeah. Should I be here for th-" Jesse was cut off by Walter.

"Yeah, Andrea, that's her name. See, she isn't some bimbo like the last few pieces of ass Jesse has gotten his hands on. She knows when to shut the hell up and let a man take the wheel. You're a lucky man, Jesse. You really are. Some of us don't deserve that kind of privilege, apparently,"

"You're an asshole," Skyler said, simply. Walter hogged down his tendie again and got in her face.

"Yeah, well, you're a cunt," Walt said.

"Dick."

"Whore."

Suddenly Walt and Skyler started passionately making out as they ripped eachother's clothes off.

"Uhm, I'm just gonna-" Jessie began as he manuevered toward the door.

"Jesse, I will pay you $50,000 if you watch this right now," Walt said in a frenzy.

Jesse thought about the money. He could really use it. I mean $50,000 is a lot of money. That's like how much money most people make in a year. Then, Skyler bent over on the kitchen table, pushing hundreds of tendies to the ground.

"Eat my ass, Walter," she said. "Yeah, no thanks Mr. White I'm gonna just go-"

"JESSE! I'LL GIVE YOU $500,000 IF YOU JOIN US RIGHT NOW" Walt screamed as Jesse slammed the door behind him.

Jesus Christ, thought Jesse. What was wrong with that man? He really couldn't figure it out. All he knew was that he was going to hang out with Badger and play some Minecraft. Jessie walked down the now deserted streets of Albuquerque, and as he reached into his pocket to grab his phone, saw a recognizable face. It was that famous Japanese TV actor - Misa Misa!

"I'm sorry, sir, do you know where the DEA building is?" she asked Jesse.


	5. S1E5: H

Hank sucked on his fingers, savoring the cheese dust that coated his nubs. He groaned in ecstasy once he finished. "MARIE!" Hank screamed from his room. The ground was covered in various minerals, stacking higher up near the door. Marie made her way to the door, leaning in to check on him as he lay on his bed.

"Hank, you're not injured anymore, I can't keep doing this," Marie said with a sigh.

"I'm out of cheetos," Hank said, disregarding everything his wife had just said.

"Then go get them yourself. While you're at it, clean up this room, Jesus, this is ridiculous Hank. I know you've had a hard time with everything lately but you can't sink into depression. I can get you my therapist's number if you'd like. He's really nice, I don't even have any temptation to steal anymore. Like before, I just wanted to grab everything and stuff it into my purse. It was like crack to me, I couldn't stop. And my tolerance built too, you know, I had to steal more and more valuable possessions to get my fix going. I just fucking loved it. I loved looking into a woman's eyes as I stole her husbands ashes without her even knowing. Damn it was good. I had power. I had control." Marie rambled on.

"I'm fine Marie, just get me cheetos," Hank said as he zoned out into the seductive shiny texture of the mineral in his hand.

Marie walked off, still talking to herself, grabbed her purse and left to go buy cheetos. Hank sighed as he rubbed the mineral in his hand, feeling it rub against his palms. This is my meth, Hank thought to himself. Before he could finish his mineral-rubbing session, his phone began to buzz. Reaching under his posterior, he pulled the phone out and answered.

"Hank, you're needed in the office immediately," His secretary spoke on the other end.

"What's going on, filet mignon?" Hank said, smirking.

"I don't know the details Sir, but it sounded urgent," She said, unamused.

Hank hung up and began the process of exiting his bedroom. Stepping down onto the floor, he felt the sharp minerals on the ground grind against his foot, almost enough to break the skin. He screamed as he slowly took steps towards the door, feeling every edge of them jabbing into his feet. Upon exiting the room, he put his shoes on and ran out into his car. As he drove down the road, he came to a stoplight where he realized something.

"Oh shit," he said, looking at his seat belt which had not been fastened. "I forgot to turn my music on!" Hank exclaimed with a smile as 'Mask Off' by Future began to play at the loudest volume possible.

Hank arrived at his place of work, and rushed inside with urgency, fearing the news may pertain to his brother in law Walter. He was greeted by 4 men, all in suits, standing around as if they were sad. One of them, who looked like an older man, stepped forward to him.

"?... L?" he says, his eyes showing a deep sadness.

"What's this fuckin' chingchong talk?" Hank says, staring at the man like he's crazy.

"L?!" The man says again, this time yelling.

"Listen here you oriental coolie, I don't have time for this shit! I have minerals waiting for me at home!" Hank screamed, shoving the man away forcefully. Before the man could respond, the youngest looking of the 4 stepped forward.

"DAD JUST LET ME TALK TO HIM I SPEAK ENGLISH JESUS FUCKING CHRIST" he says.

"Finally, some American talk here," Hank said, his face a deep red.

" My name is Light Yagami. That is my father," he says, pointing to the older man. "We're investigating the Heisenberg case alongside L," he added.

"Okay? Why do I have to be here? I got other things to do, kid," Hank sighed.

"We called you here to inform you that L has died. The investigation will continue regardless," Light said, completely emotionless as opposed to the other team members that were very distraught.

"Uh, yeah, okay...What are the details?" Hank said, Walter's face haunting him in his mind. He knew Walt was a pathetic, spineless, cancer-ridden shell of a man that could never be Heisenberg. He also knew that L had suspicions of him. He felt his brain tingle as he was forced to think about something other than his minerals.

"We're not disclosing information to you just yet, Mr. Schrader. We do, however, have a task for you," Light said, staring at his computer screen as he clicked. A white screen with the letter H appeared. "You will now be H, taking over L's job until we gather the required information to sort out L's cause of death," Light finished.

"Woah woah, hey now, slow down there chinaman. I'm not L. I don't got them talents, I don't even like lemonade," Hank said, laughing at the idea that he could ever take the position of L.

"You're the best we have, , this investigation cannot go on without you." Light says in frustration. Hank stared at Light, the image of Walt burning in his mind as his brain cells vibrated at an unusually high rate. Thinking was painful. He decided to agree to get this over with, that way the suspicion of his diseased brother would finally come to a close as he could prove him guilty or innocent.

"Alright, I'll do it," Hank said. Light nodded in response, looking back at his computer.

"Watari will be here to provide you with anything that would be needed to help you on the case. You're free to use your personal office as your private investigation room." Light said, typing away on his computer.

Hank looked over at Watari, and gave him a gesture to follow him into his office area. Allowing Watari in, he stepped in and closed the door behind him. Hank then grabbed Watari by his shirt collar.

"Listen here, I need minerals. Lots of them. Think of the highest number you can imagine, I need even more than that. Do you understand?" Hank said, breathing against Watari's face heavily and he broke a sweat in his burst of rage.

"Understoo-" Watari began to say, before being interrupted by Hank.

"You gotta get them off eBay. Look for reliable vendors only. None of that fuckin' chinese bullshit. I want american made minerals. Is that clear?" Watari nodded in response. "Good," Hank said, releasing his grip, "Get the hell out of here," he finished as he turned to his desk. As Watari left the room, Hank began to squat down in his desk chair. The chair wobbled as he squirmed his way onto it, lowering his ass down into a hovering position with his hands on his knees. The seam on his pants began to tear, as they were strained in an unfamiliar position. He stared at a family photo, which included Walter, on his desk. He continued to stare while his pants continued ripping, slowly revealing more and more of his legs until the fabric covering his ass burst as well, leaving him exposed. If I'm gonna be H, I can't go commando anymore, Hank thought to himself. He opened his desk drawer and grabbed a mineral to focus on while he planned out his actions now, as he began to suspect that bald motherfucker once again.


	6. S1E6: The Brewskies

Walter opened his eyes. Damn, what a night he had had. It was on some crazy shit. He and Skyler were fuckin' all night long. He got up and made himself a cup of steaming hot coffee that quickly cleared his mouth of the taste of Skyler's ass. Just as he went to brush his teeth, he heard a knock at the door. Damn. Who knockin' at the fuckin door like that? Shit. Walter opened the door and was completely unsurprised to find Hank standing on the other side of it with a six pack of beer.

"Hey, buddy, what's goin' on? I just got a six pack of brewskes with your name on it," Hank said, enthusiastically. Walter looked down at the cans in his hand. On it, was written 'WALTER WHITE' in sharpie.

"Hank. It is 6 AM," Walter repeated, groaning.

"Aw, come on! You don't wanna toss the pigskin with your buddy, Hank?"

"What does that even mean?"

"Alright, alright. I caught you at a bad time. Enjoy your morning. I'll be back with these bad boys later." Hank said, tapping on the cans before walking back to his car. Walter shut the door, raising his brow while he thought to himself. What the hell is up with Hank? He must be suspicious. Suspicious Hank only means problems for Walter. Walter no likey.

"Bugs..." Walter whispered to himself, lowering his raised eyebrow as it began to cramp. Dropping down onto the floor, Walt began to search the carpet for any bugs. They could be anywhere, they could even be under the floorboards, he thought to himself. He stripped up a section of carpet, feeling the floor under to verify there were no recording devices. Darting from the floor, Walt grabbed his toaster and threw it at a wall. As it shattered into pieces, Walter frantically searched them for any devices. None were found, but this was not enough to ease Walter's mind. He started with flipping over the couch, ripping off the ceiling fan, and moving onto removing the toilet from his bathroom before being at ease about the lack of bugs in his house. Unfortunately, it looked as if hurricane Irma had struck his own home. He set off to The Home Depot to repair his house.

Walt's least favorite thing about the urban environment he lived in was most definitely traffic jams. That or the blacks. Thankfully, at this moment in time, he didn't have to deal with the latter, but unfortunately he was dealing with the former. Cars lined the streets for several thousand yards ahead of him. Things were moving very slowly. Walter did not care for this. Walt found himself overcome with anger. Then, he had a moment of clarity. Walter exited his vehicle and began simply walking forward. He did not need a car; he was the fucking man. Despite all of the horns being honked around him, he continued to walk slowly forward through the unmoving traffic. Walt was a genius. He had finally done what no human had done before: he had solved traffic jams. He continued to stroke his ego until he heard a familiar voice to the right of him.

"Oh, hey buddy, what are the odds of me seein' you here?" Hank said to Walt from his car.

"Hello, Hank," Walt said, clearly disappointed.

"Getting that cardio in, buddy?" Hank snickered.

"Yes." Walt said, his armpits dripping with sweat.

"You look like you could use some of these," Hank said as he pulled out the 6 pack again. "They're not as 'ice-cool' how you like 'em, but they'll get the job done!" he laughed, extending his arm in offering of the beer.

"No thank you Hank, I have business to take care of." Walter replied, visibly annoyed.

"I'll have these here anytime, pal, don't you worry buddy, we're going to get through these soon, bro!" Hank replied with a smile.

As Walt had finally approached the Home Depot after hours of walking, he breathed a massive sigh of relief. He found himself getting a headache though as he saw a hispanic man pushing carts. Walt wasn't racist but he knew full well that this was an illegal who probably didn't even speak the English language. What ever happened to American jobs going to real Americans? Walt thought as he entered Home Depot. Walter started making his way through the cavernous realm of home depot. The area was overwhelming him with the site of so many people. He decided his best course of action would be to move as quickly as possible, and leave immediately. He found himself browsing through staples for his ruined carpet when he picked up a scent. Turning his head, he saw from across the aisles, none other than Hank. Walter began to back up, attempting to avoid Hank's gaze meeting him, but was struck with misfortune when Hank looked over and noticed the bald man moving away.

"HEY BUDDY! FUNNY SEEING YOU HERE, YOU READY FOR THOSE BREWSKIES?" Hank yelled, beginning to move towards Walt.

Walt began to dash like he was being hunted by a lion. He felt his flight or fight instincts kicking in and maneuvered his way around home depot, looking for any escape possible. Hank's calls echoed behind him.

"WALT! WHERE YOU GOING BUDDY? I GOT THEM RIGHT HERE!" He exclaimed, rattling the cans back and forth as hope to convince his pal to have a drink with him.  
Walter stopped in the middle of the store, looking around for anything to hide himself in. A display fridge? No, it wouldn't work, I hate the cold, he thought to himself. Then, he noticed it: a bin of watermelons, perfectly laid in the middle of the store, as if it was placed there for Walter himself. He thanked the God of meth before he dove into the bin, stil hearing Hank's pleas behind him.

"WALTER? THEY'RE PRETTY WARM NOW BUT I DON'T THINK YOU'LL MIND!" Hank screamed a final time, still looking for a frantic bald man. Hank finally approached the watermelon bin. Looking in, he noticed a pale, oddly shaped melon sticking out on top. Curious as to why they would sell such a melon, he began to feel it with his highly evolved fingertips to add the texture to his mental list of textures he had made. The list was originally for minerals, but Hank added exceptions such as strange objects to the list every now and then. He felt the melon even harder, grinding his nails into the top to grasp what kind of melon this could be. He finally came to the conclusion: it was a rotten melon. There was absolutely no other possibility. It was definitely rotten. Hank's detective work has paid off once again, he thought, as he went to grab an employee to address the issue. Hank is THAT kind of customer.

Walter sighed with relief as the head massage finally ended. Reaching for his phone in the mess of melons, he lifted it to his ear before realizing he could just fucking kill Hank with the fucking death note right now because honestly this shit is just too much and I want him to die a little bit and I'm speaking as myself as the guy writing this right now, okay? I know that seems drastic but JESUS. Anyway, Walt realized quickly he had forgotten his death note at home. He dialed Saul instead.

"SAUL! SAUL!" Walt screamed, his voice being muffled by the mass of melons covering him.

"How's it going, sport?" Saul replied ever so casually.

"Listen to me, right now, right here right now, Saul. I need a task done. A task that can only be done by a professional. I need it done as soon as possible. I want it done before I exit this bin of watermelons. Do you understand?" Walter said, his breathing becoming heavy as the melons closed in on his oxygen.

"Yeah yeah, okay, jeez, what do you want?" Saul replied with annoyance in his voice.

"I need Hank dealt with." Walt said with a sinister tone.

"You sure? I mean...alright, I think you're making a mi-" Saul was cut off as Walt hung up the phone. All he needed was confirmation that Hank would finally get what was coming to him.

Walter began his rise from the melons. Tumbling out of the bin and dragging a few melons out with him, he adjusted his glasses and made his way out of the store before an employee could notice. As he stepped out into the parking lot, he was prepared to walk home before he noticed that Hank was in the back of the parking lot. On the ground. Getting the shit kicked out of him by who knows, but it was clear that his request was understood. Walt took advantage of the opportunity and jumped into Hank's car, where he seemingly left the keys because he's a very smart man.


	7. S1E7: Halloween Special

Hank maneuvered his way up the cement path leading to Walt's door. As he rolled his wheels, he felt them lock up as he tried to push forward. Hank looked down as he noticed a leather belt was placed on the ground, almost as if it was to stop him from entering the home. No way, he thought to himself. Everyone likes good old Hank at a party! Marie then leaned over and removed the obstruction as he made his way to the door, using his foot to knock. Walter sighed, hearing the THUDDD! noise at the door. Hank must have gotten past the trap he had set to prevent him from attending his halloween party. He got off the couch, grabbed his katana and headed towards the door. Upon opening, he saw Hank dressed as some strange character, with a very obvious wig. Walter's wig was way higher quality, it was nearly unnoticeable that it was fake.

"Hey Wa- HAHA WOAH THERE WALT, WHEN DID YOU BECOME A TRANNY?" Hank laughed.

"That's insensitive. I'm clearly The Bride, a strong character you wouldn't be familiar with," Walter replied with a frown. He moved his bangs from his eyes and allowed Hank inside. Skyler exited the kitchen, looking like some kind of 80s character. She wore a denim vest, underneath was about 40 layers of plaid everywhere. She knew only real movie fans would 'get' it.

"Skyler, you're a lesbian? Walt is a tranny and you're a lesbian? What the hell is going on here!" Hank yelled sarcastically as he laughed, because his costume was definitely the best and absolutely not weird at all.

"I'm Bender, you know, from The Breakfast Club?" Skyler said with a wine glass in hand. "He's a strong character, able to protect his loved ones and be sensitive and caring as well...unlike SOME people," she added, taking a sip.

Hank was wearing a baggy, long-sleeved white t-shirt that was slightly transparent. His pants were very loose jeans, had he been standing they would fall off and expose all that junk he had down there. Not his penis, but the mineral he had brought. His wig was black, and resembled a hairstyle from a japanese cartoon. It was impossible to actually make your hair look this way, but Hank felt confidence for the first time in 40 years when he wore it. Looking in the mirror made him feel 5 years old again, with a full head of hair. In his lap, a death note was resting there to complete the costume. He wheeled towards Walt for a good conversation that he will enjoy and not regret, because Walt is his best buddy.

"Hey buddy," Hank said, being careful not to wheel on Walt's toes.

"Hello, Hank," Walter replied, looking him up and down before noticing the death note in his lap. "...Where did you get that?" Walter said nervously, pointing towards the death note as a bead of sweat dripped down his cheek immediately.

"Oh, this? Better be careful Walt, I'm gonna write your name!" Hank said as he grabbed a pen and opened the death note. He started to write 'W' before Walt interrupted.

"STOP! DON'T YOU DARE," Walter said, grabbing his wrist to prevent him from writing further.

"C'mon buddy, it's a joke, I'm yanking your chain buddy, I got it off amazon," Hank said as he laughed. Walter released his grip and smiled nervously.

Walter walked into his bedroom to adjust his bodysuit he wore. Because it was made of leather, it was extremely tight and held heat well. Every few hours he needed to pour baby powder down the neck opening of his suit to prevent friction burns from his very expensive replica suit. As he opened the bottle of baby powder, he stopped as he heard wheels down the hallway. Was Hank following him? Can't I just have one minute alone? A man needs his space to powder himself in peace. The wheels scraped against the floor of his home as the dragged Hank into Walter's bedroom.

"Hey buddy," Hank said with a smile. "Didn't want you to get lonely all alone in here!"

"Hello, Hank,"

"Take a look at this here, Walter," Hank said as he pulled a mineral out of his pants. "It's-" Hank began to say before being interrupted by Walt.

"Axinite. It's calcium, aluminum, borosilicate and is pyroelectric and piezoelectric." Walter said as he stared at Hank, only needing a moments glance at the mineral to activate the memory storage in his brain that contains some of the most important scientific information known to man. "Fascinating stuff, really," he finished.

"I thought after trannies got their dicks removed they were as dumb as chicks!" Hank said with a laugh.

Little did Walt know that it wasn't the mineral he thought it was. This mineral was special, and it was already working it's magic on Walt. It's abilities can make anyone say what their true thoughts are in the moment, and Walt spilling all of his information on the mineral was evidence to it working.

"You're really ignorant for a goddamn cripple, Hank," Walt said as he walked back into the living room with Hank following behind him.

"Oh hey Walt! Did you go on a 'walk' like you always do when you disappear?" Skyler said, standing in the kitchen with a wine glass in her hand and a wine bottle next to her on the counter.

"I don't know Skyler, did you have sex with another man that wants my money?" Walter said with a laugh, but his face showed contempt towards her.

"Woah guys, let's just chill, I mean you're both in the LGBT why the need to fight?" Hank said as he gripped his mineral in his hand.

"I don't need to hear criticism from a guy who has been crippled like, twice, over the dumbest shit," Skyler said as she took a gulp from her glass.

"Hank, you are a despicable little man and I hope you understand nobody respects you because of the things you do and say." Walter said as he stared at Hank. Before Hank was able to respond, a knock was heard at the door and Walter responded immediately.

"Trick or treat!" a group of children had arrived at his door begging for candy like the degenerates they were. Walt worked for everything he earned and they just anticipated a handout because their parents cannot properly raise a child. Nevertheless, he reached for the bag of candy he had set near the door for this occasion. Earlier in the day, Walt had spent a considerable amount of time making a batch of candy. Special candy. His own receipe modified to be sweet, so children would be more inclined to enjoy it despite it being very sharp and painful to chew.

"Here you go, kids," He said, leaning over and dropping crystal meth rock candy into their bags. As they thanked him and walked away, he grabbed one of them and whispered into his ear "If you want more, you can come back and have as much as you want. Your parents might like it too," he finished and let the child go. Walt stepped back into his house, his face turning from a smile to a cold expression as he wanted to finish his argument with Skyler. Hank thought the mineral must have been malfunctioning, because he knew that these things were just not true. Everybody knew Hank as the funny guy who really livened up the party. He would ask Marie if she felt this way too, but she was in Walter Jr's room looking for things to steal. He instead decided to wait out this argument, because it's not like Walt is a violent guy, he wouldn't do anything to hurt his wife.

"You stupid, inconsiderate, slutty bitch," Walter said with a hiss. Skyler took a massive drink from her cup, finishing it off immediately and reaching for the bottle before Walter grabbed it first and began to chug the whole bottle in front of her. Filled with rage, Skyler went through the cabinets and pulled out a bottle of tequila from Costco. It was labeled "Jumbo size - for those days, y'know?". She pulled the cap off and began to pour it into her mouth. Walter couldn't stand this and charged for the bottle, attempting to pour it into his mouth as it splashed everywhere, all over his nice yellow bodysuit. Fed up with the argument, Walter tackled Skyler to the ground and held her throat as she dropped the tequila onto the ground, creating a slippery surface as he wrestled her into submission. As he furiously strangled his wife, Walt Jr came into the room. His outfit resembled some kind of anime character, a sword strapped to his back as a long black trenchcoat dragged on the floor while he walked.

"Hey Dad, I'm going trick-or-treating with Louis," Walt Jr said as he looked at his parents attempting to murder each other.

"Don't you think you're a little too old for that, son?" Walter responded while keeping his grip on Skyler's neck.

"No Dad, I didn't even get to go much as a kid! It'll be fun," he said, brushing off the idea that maybe if you're like 15 you probably shouldn't go trick or treating but I mean whatever man.

"Don't ask for help if the other kids start bullying you," Walter said with a sigh. Why was his son born like this? Walter Jr walked towards the door and opened it before turning around and saying with no expression on his face, "I wish you'd just die already, Uncle Hank". He exited the house without asking what his parents were doing.

Hank laughed. "Classic Junior! Always learning from your good ol' Uncle Hank!" he snorted. Walter suddenly stopped attempting to suffocate his wife, and released his grip on her. He stood up as he felt his skeleton vibrate a familiar sensation, something that he had become adjusted to in the past. His fingertips became ultra-sensitive to wind and the draft in the house as he started out the window into the backyard. With slight hesitation, he walked outside, keeping his gaze fixated on the area near the pool before looking around him. Hank wheeled as far as he could to Walt before asking what was going on.

"I could have sworn, I just saw Gus, alive and in the flesh...back in black if you will."


	8. S1E8: Meth: The Final Frontier

God damn that bitch is the shit. I bet her asshole tastes like soggy fruity pebbles. Like microwaveable pizza. Like a bag of Lays. Like a glazed donut-

"Hey, boss" Huell said as Saul walked in the door. It was just another day for Saul and his team. Thankfully, Saul had shut all the vents and bulletproofed the windows, so there was no way that maniac Walter White could break in.

"What's up, Huell?" Saul replied.

"Someone done told me to show ya this video online. Said it was your kinda thing," Huell said as he hunkered down on a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos. "Christ, did your parents ever tell you not to chew with your mouth open?" Saul said in disgust.

"Whuuut?" Huell said seconds later as he looked up from the now empty bag of chips.

"Forget about it, Chewbacca, let's go watch this video you're telling me about."

Saul was in awe. He hadn't listened to any new music since 1988, and now here we are. This was garbage. According to the Worldwide Web, this song was called Marmalade and it was by a man named Mackelmore. God, it was bad. Saul was looking for the red X button to close the Internet Explorer window so he wouldn't have to look at this pale white man dancing when all of a sudden he noticed something. This wasn't any pale white man. No, he looked familiar. One of his clients, maybe? The shot changed to an up close shot of the back of Mr. Mackelmore's head when he turned around to reveal a hysterical Walter White.

"What the fu-" Saul started before his computer's volume was raised to its maximum decibel count and he heard Walt's voice all around him in a terrifying few moments.

"SAUL! I KNOW YOU'RE THERE, I CAN SMELL YOU!" Walter screamed. Then, to Saul's absolute horror, he looked back to his computer screen to see Walter climbing out of the video. He repeatedly tried to exit out of the browser window but had no such luck. A few seconds later, Walter began exiting his monitor and entering the physical world. He tackled Saul once he had fully entered his office.

"Jesus Christ, what do you want?" Saul said with Walt on top of him.

"SAUL! I need a favor." Walt replied sternly, and came spittingly close to Saul's face as he spoke. "And you are going to give me that favor whether you like it or not."

"What? What do you want, you freak? Aw, your breath smells like Funyuns!" "I need an aerospace expert. I'm going to build a rocket!" Walt got off of Saul and got up.

"What, you gonna blow up the moon to save your family now?" Saul joked. This made Walt quickly turn around and scoul at Saul.

"What?" Walt said, angrily.

"Well.. I... I-" Saul stuttered before being interrupted by Walt.

"You think I would do something THAT stupid? Do you think I'm an idiot? LOOK AT ME, SAUL!"

Walter walked around the SpaceX HQ, following closely behind Elon Musk. This place was fucking boring. What even is any of this shit? Who gives a fuck about Mars? That was all that was running through Walter's mind as he glanced around the building while Elon Musk rambled about some bullshit. As Elon was explaining something about their plans for Mars, Walter interrupted.

"When can I see a rocket?"

"A rocket?" Elon chuckled. He knew this was a brilliant man who loved learning, it was only natural for him to want to see their amazing rockets.

"Yes. I need to see it. I need it for something," Walter said with a face so stern it could make you shit yourself.

"Are you studying engineering now, Walter?" Elon laughed.

"No." Walter replied. Elon didn't understand Walter's sense of humor, but he decided to lead him to where they keep their rockets anyway. After arriving, Elon departed and allowed Walter to do as much looking as he liked. Now was Walter's chance. There were many controls around him, some for the rocket, some for the lights, who knows what all these crazy buttons do? He decided the best course of action would be to climb inside and find the launch panel himself. Squeezing himself inside, he looked around. How could astronauts do all their work in these things? This makes my back hurt so much, he thought. He tried flipping switches, but nothing was happening. With frustration, he began banging his fists on the console, shattering some of the display screens. Suddenly, he heard an explosion, and he was knocked backwards as he saw himself getting higher up. The rocket burst through the roof and continued to rise into the atmosphere. Walter screamed with joy, because this has been the most carefree fun he has had in like 6 months. He looked out the window of the rocket and saw a massive blue, white and green orb near him. It was definitely a planet, but what one was it? Walter had no idea, it was truly a mystery that couldn't be solved by technology. Not even the power of the human brian could uncover what this planet was. Walter began to fall back down, his body sticking to one of the sides of the rocket as he descended rapidly. This definitely wasn't as fun as coming up, but it was nice to not wear a seatbelt this time. You gotta break the rules to enjoy life, you know. The rocket finally hit ground on Earth, right in Walter's backyard. That made it way easier for Walter, because he had planned on getting a uHaul to move it to his house. Skyler heard the crash from inside the house and come outside.

"Walt? Walt? What the hell was that? What is this?" Skyler babbled as Walter climbed out of the rocket.

"It is a rocket, Skyler." he said with a blank stare.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Skyler screamed as she stared at the ship in her pool.

"It's for the family, Skyler," Walter replied with a sigh. Women do not understand anything about being the head of a household. It takes work, sacrifices and dedication to do this. Women were not made to deal with the kind of problems that men deal with on a daily basis. Men are leaders, innovators, creators, scientists and more. Women are to care for children, to bring companionship for men, and that is it. There is nothing stressful about being a woman, because her job is designated to be caring for people, which is the easiest thing a human can do. It is almost as if women are an entirely different species than men. It's disgusting that feminism warped the concept, the natural biological instinct of humanity for women to be caretakers and men to be the future of society.

Jesse was suspicious when Walt invited him over as their last encounter had not been very pleasant. However, Walt insisted that that bitch Skyler would be gone and therefore they could have a good old boys night out. Walter opened his cell, and dialed Jesse to inform him of the plans that he had for tonight.

"Jesse, we're going to play minecraft,"

"Minecraft? Isn't that like, uh, a kids thing?" Jesse responded, almost mocking Walter for suggesting that.

"It is an excellent creative tool for children and adults alike to express their ideas, bond creatively and showcase works within a digital sandbox, Jesse," Walter replied.

"Uh...alright, sounds cool man, I'll be over in a bit," Jesse reluctantly agreed. He drove to Walt's house, knocked on the door and came inside. Inside the house, the living room was arranged differently. There was no longer just a couch and some chairs, with a shitty tv as the focus piece of the room. Instead, there was two large beanbag chairs, no table, and a large cooler filled with beer. The TV was now a massive flatscreen in 4K quality, which isn't even possible in this year.

"Go on Jesse, sit down, play some minecraft," Walter said with a smile as he sat down as well, and offered Jesse a beer. Jesse began to construct his ideal life - a home, furnished and comfortable with a great view. He put time and dedication into the appearance of his virtual home in a pixel-block game, as it brought a sense of comfort that the real life was not bringing. This was almost as good as meth, he thought. Walter on the other hand, was deep underground in a cave system building a massive meth production area. After a while, they had finished their buildings. Jesse showed Walter what he had built, and Walter simply felt it was 'ok' at best. Walter didn't give a flying fuck about no stupid ass minecraft house.

"Jesse, I'd like to show you something, c'mere," Walter said as he stood up and walked outside. Jesse followed, though wishing he was still playing minecraft.

"Holy shit! Is that thing real?" Jesse expressed his disbelief at the massive rocket lying in Walter's pool.

"Yep, made her myself," Walt said.

"What were you planning on using it for?" Jesse replied.

"See, Jesse, there's a solar system about three light years away called Magna Centauri. Ever heard of it?"

"Uhh, no. Why?"

"Well, Jesse, there's a planet about 45 astronomical units from the star that we refer to as Magna D. It contains incredible amounts of CH3, as well as hydrogen and nitrogen. These are the ingredients for meth."

"It's a meth planet?"

"Yep."

"Holy shit."

"And we're going there." Walt said as Jesse looked at him in disbelief. Jesse suddenly speedwalked back into the house as Walter followed him.

"Look, I-I've got to leave, alright?" Jesse said.

"Jesse! Imagine! We'd have an entire planet's worth of meth! We'd never have to cook again!"

"I'm not going to go to fucking space for your BULLSHIT!" Jesse exclaimed at Walter.

"Fine. Then I'll go alone," Walt said.

"Don't do this, man. It's crazy. It'll never work," Jesse's sense of guilt overrided his desire to leave as he began to attempt to convince Walter not to do this stupid ass shit.

"You know, Jesse, you could at least take a look at the technology first, it's some pretty interesting stuff." "A-alright, fine," Jesse said. Jesse climbed inside of the rocket. Inside, he noticed that some of the display screens were shattered. He felt his anxiety rise as he began to turn back, but Walt had already shut the hatch behind him. Inside, an orange square lit up.

"Hey buddy, pal, hey there amigo, I'm HANK 9000" a voice came out.

"What the hell? Who are you?" Jesse responded, feeling the urge to break out of the rocket strongly at this moment. The voice sounded exactly like Walter's brother in law, Hank.

"Uh, you deaf buddy? I'm HANK 9000! I know you're not that bright, but jesus pal, c'mon! It's me, HANK 9000! I'm here to uh, y'know, launch the ship buddy." HANK 9000 responded with laughs inbetween his sentences. Jesse looked behind him, looking for Walt, but he was nowhere to be seen. Rushing to the nearest window, he looked out to see Walter holding a sign that read 'I'M SORRY JESSE, IT HAD TO BE DONE'. That son of a bitch.

"Buddy, uh, we are launching, 3 2 1 let's go buddy, c'mon get your seat on or you'll be a pancake pal!" HANK 9000 continued. Jesse sat down in a seat, and HANK 9000 activated the straps for him, fastening him in his seat. Within seconds, he was launched into the atmosphere with HANK 9000 screaming 'WOOOOOOOO!' blaringly loud. Jesse nearly blacked out from the sheer force it required to launch him into space, and with HANK's screaming, it felt as if he was entering another dimension.

Walter walked back into his home, and into his garage. Flipping the lights on revealed Light. He looks as if he hasn't showered in weeks.

"It's done." Walter said with a grim tone.

"Good." Light smirked to himself.

"Why was this necessary? You can't keep asking things of me without an explanation, Light." Walter said with anger in his voice. He knew that Light was likeminded, but sending Jesse off was risky.

"Walter, we're about to eliminate some of the worst people on this poisoned Earth. Jesse has a conscience that is easily guilted, he would not be able to control himself once we begin the next step." Light said, barely making eye contact with Walter as he was too busy on his laptop.

The rocket continued fast even out of the atmosphere, traveling faster than light to reach the meth planet. After what felt like ages, Jesse was in deep space. All around him there was nothing but black. There were a few stars, but there were no planets, Earth was not visible either. He felt so insignificant in this place. Every problem he had in the grand scale of things meant nothing, because out here there was so much space that his mind could not even comprehend the vast amount of it. Thinking about everything that had happened in his life made him realize that there was a lot less things to stress about. At the same time, he began to question why he was here at this time. Why was he born Jesse Pinkman? Why in New Mexico, why the United States, why even on Earth? Was there a purpose to any of this, or was it all just luck that he came to exist? Jesse felt his stomach sink as he continued to ponder the depths of space that surrounded him.  
"Hey buddy, you know how big and deep this space is, don't you buddy? It reminds me of your mom!" HANK 9000 said with a laugh.


	9. S1E9: Hot Or Not

"Light, are you sure we had to just... Get rid of Jesse like that?" Walt asked as he opened a fruit roll-up.

"It was the only thing we could do, Walt," Light replied. "Jesse was spending a little too much time with Misa. Now she and I are going to go back to Japan."

"Ok," Walter sounded a muffled reply, his mouth being full of fruit roll-up.

...

Skyler was drinking a cup of coffee and eating her breakfast when suddenly Walter slammed down two pieces of paper. One was a picture of his face with a score of 4/10 next to it. The other was a photo of Gustavo Fring's face with an 8/10 next to it.

"Do you see this, Skyler?" Walt asked urgently.

"See what?" Skyler replied. Walt chuckled.

"This data here? Completely incorrect. Now, what I'm thinking is that Gus made this himself to uhh, Well, Jesse tells me the kids are calling it 'trolling' now."

"You think...Gus did this to, what, make you angry?" Skyler replied, almost rolling her eyes at the lunacy.

"To strike my confidence, Skyler. He wants me weak." Walter replied in anger.

"How, though? Gus has been dead for months, Walt. It doesn't make any sense."

"He's not dead, Skyler. Not anymore. I'm going to get to the bottom of this..." Walt said, stubbornly, as he marched off to Junior's room. Walt spent several hours researching the scores that this particular site gave. He started with a picture of Marie. He knew that she would get a high score because god damn if that bitch wasn't crazy I would fuck that bitch all night. The site gave Marie a 5/10. Walter audibly screamed in frustration. Next, he tried a picture of his son, Junior. Junior certainly wasn't a bad looking young man but Walt knew that he was much more handsome. The site gave Junior a 7/10. Walter threw the computer mouse at the wall. Picking it back up, he inserted a picture of Hank. Hank was an ugly bald ass son of a bitch. Old cueball looking ass. The site gave Hank a 7.5/10. Walter's frustration ran so deep that he could no longer express it physically. Instead, he began chuckling until he found himself on the floor of his son's room in tears from hysterical laughter. An hour later, Junior opened the door to find his father on the floor in stitches from laughter.

"Dad, what's going on?" Junior said. Walter quickly got up and clicked out of the window on Junior's computer.

"Oh, nothing son, I was just watching Family Guy," Walter stammered. "That Brian, he sure is a character" he added.

Walter decided enough was enough. He was seriously stressed out. This whole thing with Gus being alive as well as the fact that Jesse had very low chances of coming back alive made Walter's forehead wrinkles begin to sweat. Not to mention, Skyler definitely was not putting out, because she's "upset" and "scared of him". What a bitch. This dry spell was starting to make it hard for Walter to cook. He would often zone out staring into the sexy giant metal cylinders used to cook his recipe in. He knew he was home alone right now, and he knew exactly what he wanted to do. Walter stepped into Junior's room and unlocked his computer. To be sure the FBI wasn't watching him, he opened incognito mode on chrome and went to . He scrolled through the list of women looking for a one night stand, when a pop-up ad appeared. It showed a young Chinese woman and that he could receive a massage from one. He called the number listed.

"Hello... Is this the Asian massage parlor?" He said quietly into his phone. "Yes it is, What can I do for you, sir?" A polite Asian woman spoke back in perfectly clear English.

"I would like to request an appointment. Now," Walter replied sternly.

"Okay sir. We're available right now, please come as soon as you can as our business hours end in two hours," she finished. Walter hung up the phone. Traveling to the address, he stepped into the building that was relatively discreet. He was nervous as he sat down in the waiting room that was decorated in Chinese cultural pieces. A woman opened a door behind the counter to his right. Walter stood up and walked over nervously, looking around him every step to make sure Hank was not monitoring him.

"Would you like a 30 minute session, or an hour?" the woman said with a smile. "I'll take a 30 minute session," Walt replied before shaking his head. "No, make that an hour, please." Walter deserved this. He has provided for his family for this long, he needs time to unwind.

"That will be 50 dollars sir," She said again, in perfectly clear and understandable English. Walter handed her the money and was instructed to go inside the room that was behind a door to his left. As he entered, the same woman from the counter told him to undress and place the robe provided on while he waits for the masseuse.  
He stripped down butt-ass naked. Everything was out. Dingus and all. It was liberating until he put his robe on. A different Asian woman walked in the room and introduced herself as Sharon.

"I'll be giving you your massage today sir, please lay down on the table," she instructed.

Walter positioned himself on the table, placing his face into the circular cushion. He was anxious for what was about to happen. The woman's hands thoroughly massaged his back before Walt realized the sensation stopped briefly.

"Wha-" a relaxed Walt began to say before the sensation began again, this time going into his lower body. The beautiful woman's hands ran down Walter White's hairy asscheeks before getting a firm grip on his nutsack. Walt, having no desire to outright cheat on Skyler, turned around and looked back up. To his shock and horror, Walt found himself staring into the dead - but now all too alive - eyes of Gustavo Fring.

"Enjoying yourself, Walter?" Gustavo said, tightening his grip on Walt's balls.

"How the hell-" Walter began before being interrupted.

"Shh, you have spoken enough, Mr. White. It is my turn to speak now. I will be re-launching my business. Do not interfere. If you do interfere, I will cut your balls off with a box cutter. Do I make myself clear?" Gustavo said, in a cold and monotone manner.

"Y-yes," Walter said as he finished nutting on the table. The adrenaline that surged through him upon seeing Gus's face, and the massage from what he assumed was a woman beforehand caused him to nut prematurely. This was a sticky situation.


	10. S1E10: No Nut November

DAY ONE

Walter was squatting on his toilet, taking a fat shit. It was the morning of November 1st. Having been on the toilet for 20 minutes, he got out his cellular device and looked to see that he had received a new text, from Hank.

"HEY BUDDY ITS NO NUT NVMBR GOOD LUCK"

What the hell was he talking about? No Nut November? Walt couldn't care less. He was out here making this money. He really didn't care about whatever stupid shit Hank was up to. Walter flushed the toilet, and got up to leave the bathroom. He went into the living room. Junior and Skyler were both gone, which meant that Walt could get comfortable. Walt stripped down to his bare balls and plopped his butt on the couch, flicking the TV on. He was surfing through fake news channels, also known as anything that isn't FOX, when he decided to look in the more... adult section. With a grin on his face, he grabbed the remote when he heard a 'thud' against the screen door. Looking over, Hank was pressed against the glass and fogging the window with his breath as he stared directly at Walt.

DAY TWO

With Hank showing up unexpectedly yesterdayy, Walter decided it was in his best interest to invest in a home security system. After 6 arguments with the employees on the phone, he went to the store, got into a fist fight with the manager and left with his brand new home security system. It included a camera for the front of his house, and one for the back. Now Hank could never sneak up on him like that. Ruining his fuckin' time. Goddamn.

The security system was installed just in time as Skyler came home looking like a snack. Walt was ready to get all up in that ass, and as Skyler went into their bedroom to get ready, he doublechecked that the alarm system was on and looked at the cameras. Absolutely no sign of Hank. Walter breathed a sigh of relief as he started to walk away before the alarm started to blare. He turned around quickly and looked to the cameras as the alarm suddenly shut off. Still no sign of Hank. Probably just a bug in the system. Probably. Walter yet again stripped down to his tighty whities and went into the bedroom to see that Skyler was ready. As Walter prepared himself for the fun, he heard footsteps behind him. Before he was even able to turn around, Hank had picked him up by the back of his undies and threw him headfirst against the wall.

"ANYTIME, BUDDY." Hank said, laughing.  
"What the hell, Hank?" exclaimed Skyler.  
"IT'S NO NUT NOVEMBER, BUDDY."  
"Is it? I might need to try that." Skyler said as Walter screamed in pain.

DAY THREE

Walter woke up with his head pounding. He decided not to visit the hospital for his head injury, as he did not like doctors telling him things as if he were stupid. He is clearly smarter. He makes meth. Walter grabbed a banana for breakfast as he was too frustrated to properly nourish himself. Partially because of his head, and partially because he was practically carrying his balls with a wheelbarrow. The pain was intense, and he needed a release, but it was not feasible with Hank constantly monitoring him. Naturally, this means he must do it in absolute secrecy, just like how he makes meth. He knew the perfect place.

Walt had been driving for 3 hours. There was nothing in sight, just the emptiness of the desert surrounding him. He wanted to be absolutely sure that Hank was nowhere near him. He stepped out of the car into the blazing heat of the desert sun pounding on his bald noggin, and pulled his iPhone X out. As he opened up the PornHub app, he glanced around him and saw nothing for miles upon miles. Perfect, he thought to himself. Halfway through cranking his hog, he heard something in the distance and looked over.  
A figure was approaching. At first, it was almost like a black dot. But within thirty seconds, it was easily recognizable as Hank. Walter got out of his car and started pleading for Hank to stop, but Hank continued to approach at his brisk pace. Hank tackled Walt into the desert sand and started kicking him on the ground. "COME ON, BUDDY, ITS NO NUT NOVEMBER, YOU GOTTA GET YOUR HEAD IN THE GAME MAN" Hank said as he stole Walt's keys and got in Walt's car and left, leaving Walt stranded.  
DAY TEN

Walter was struggling to focus at work. All of the shiny metal machines around him were becoming a distraction, as every time he glanced at once he immediately got a chubby in his pants. Mike was across the room, doing something or other with the coffee machine when Walter caught a glance of his head. It was very... rotund, and very shiny, much shinier than Walt's own. He walked over to Mike to get a better look at that plump ass head of his.

"Walter, what are you doing? Where's Jesse?" Mike said, not moving his gaze from the coffee machine.  
"Oh he's, you know, he's fine...very busy. I got it under control." Walter said, moving an inch closer to Mike.  
"Do you need something, Walter?" Mike said, finally making eye contact with Walter. Walter was overwhelmed in that moment.  
"No, I mean, I could use a little bit of-" Walter was interrupted in his whispering as Mike grabbed his arm and slammed him onto the ground. Walter screamed in agony as his skull hit the concrete, knocking his glasses off of his head.  
"Walter, you got about 5 seconds before I start shootin' instead of throwin'" Mike said, pointing a gun at Walt.  
"Mike, please, just listen to me- please, I just need to nut. I NEED to nut, Mike!" Walter screamed and cried as he laid on the ground.  
"Cry me a river. I haven't nut since vietnam, Walt." Mike said, putting his gun back and walking away from the pathetic mess of a man.

DAY THIRTEEN

Walter pulled up to the second window at the drive thru at Wendy's. He ordered exactly one small chili, something to tide him over and keep his mind off no nut november. When he got to the window, an employee that looked roughly 16 handed him what was clearly a medium chili, closed the window as if he expected him to just drive off, and left it like that. What the fuck? Walter was immediately fuming with rage. He unrolled his window and reached his arm out enough to pound his fist on the drive thru window. He began screaming "HEY! HEY! THIS ISN'T RIGHT, ANYONE IN THERE? I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME."  
The cars behind him began to honk as he continued pounding his fist. Deciding on a better method, he squeezed out of his car and opened the drive thru window himself. Walter stuck his head in and began yelling.

"HELLO? THIS ISN'T RIGHT. I ASKED FOR A SMALL CHILI. ONE SMALL CHILI, THAT'S ALL I ASK, AND WHAT DO YOU GIVE ME? A MEDIUM. DO YOU THINK I'M SOME KIND OF PIG OF A MAN? OH THE FATASS CAN EAT A MEDIUM? NO, I LIKE TO STAY TRIM. I CAN'T BELIEVE- I JUST CAN'T BELIEVE SOMEONE COULD BE SO STUPID AS TO GIVE ME A MEDIUM INSTEAD OF A SMALL. DO YOU KNOW HOW COMPLEX MY JOB IS? MY JOB IS PART OF THIS ECONOMY, WITHOUT MY JOB, WITHOUT ME WORKING THERE - IT WOULD ALL COLLAPSE! I WANT TO SPEAK TO THE MANAGE-" Walt ranted before being interrupted by a girl employee throwing a fountain beverage at his face, causing him to fall back, hit his head on his own car and then once again on the ground. He even spilled his chili all over himself in the process. After 10 minutes, he managed to get up and drive off.

DAY FIFTEEN

The shower had been running for 16 hours straight as Walt sat in it, his knees curled up to his face as the hot water sprayed on his bald ass head. All that was going through his mind was how insignificant he was in the universe. There was really no purpose for his existence, I mean he failed his dream at such a young age, but even if he had succeeded it would not have been an inherent purpose. There was no such thing as fate, destiny, prophecy... all of that was just something created by man to keep us from killing ourselves once we discovered the truth. He thought about how if there was some reason for things to be, for man to exist, then that creator was a sinister evil man. He realized he had been nothing but a cog in the machine for so long that now it was hitting him at 50 years old, it was hitting extremely hard. He got out of the shower, his pruny wrinkled body barely cooperating with him as he slid across the tile in the bathroom.

In the garage, Walter found a rope. He took the rope inside and tied it to the ceiling fan in the living room, and placed a dining chair under the fan. He tested the ropes strength by tugging it a few times, and decided that since nobody was home, this was his only opportunity. He placed the noose around his neck and closed his eyes, when suddenly the front door broke down. It was Hank. Hank charged at Walt, grabbing him by the neck and removing the rope only to elbow him in the jaw, knocking him off the chair. He picked up the chair and began swinging wildly at Walter's body as he screamed. Only when he saw blood from Walter's body coating the chair did he stop. Walt cried like a toddler as Hank left his house, leaving the door broken down.

DAY TWENTY

Walter came to with his face pressed directly into the ground as he was surrounded by popcorn strewn across the floor. It seemed as if he had passed out here the previous night. He then looked at his watch to see that it was the twentieth of November, which meant that Walt had slept for an entire five days.  
The night he had passed out, Walter got Junior and Skyler a hotel room and spent the parts of the night that didn't involve eating popcorn boarding up the windows and using his scientific knowledge to keep Hank out - at least long enough for him to be able to nut. All of the windows and doors were completely boarded up. A bear couldn't get into the house. There was no way Hank could get in. It would truly be impossible. It had to be. Walter quickly grabbed his genitals and began masturbating as he heard pieces of wood break off of a nearby window. "No, no, no, NO!" Walt screamed, trying to nut but the circumstances made it quite difficult. Walter could see Hank's smiling face through the wood as he continued to tear it off until Hank entered Walt's living room and restrained him.

DAY TWENTY THREE

Walter had been stuck in the crawlspace, tied to one of the posts for 3 days. He could no longer feel his wrists or his hands from the way they were tied up. Hank would come in occasionally and give him a boloney sandwich, hand feeding it to him as Walter cried and begged to be let go. But at the third day, he woke up with his wrists untied. He managed to climb himself out of the crawlspace and cried on the floor for 3 hours before collecting himself. Hank was nowhere to be seen, and the home security cameras had been removed. Skyler and Flynn were nowhere to be seen as well, so Walter decided to sit and cry for a little longer due to the amount of trauma he had faced the past 3 days. While in his crying session, he was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Tyrus.

"Somewhere you should be?" Tyrus said with a condescending tone.  
"Listen to me... I have been having, trouble lately. Personal trouble. I just - I can't nut. I'm not allowed. My brother in law, he's - he's gone crazy and he's watching my every move. I don't have the time for it. I need help. Please." Walter pleaded. Tyrus stared at him for a moment, looking at him up and down. Walt was wearing only underwear and a t-shirt covered in dust from the crawlspace. "Just be quick about it." Tyrus said, turning around to watch for Hank. Walter shut the door and immediately grabbed his peter when he heard screaming. Through the window, he saw Tyrus being dismembered and consumed by Hank as if he were a rabid animal. When Tyrus' screams finally stopped as his mangled corpse lay in front of Walt's house, Hank looked over at Walt who was still staring through the window. He smiled at Walt and left.

DAY THIRTY

It was 11:58 PM. Walter lay on the ground of his house, only in underwear, as the rest of the house was destroyed. The walls were damaged, the carpet was torn up and stained in places, the fridge was tipped over, and Walter could not motivate himself to do anything. He just laid there, patiently hoping that something would stop Hank. He no longer felt human. Suddenly, Hank looked over him.

"GOOD JOB BUDDY, CAN'T WAIT TILL NEXT YEAR!" Hank said, laughing and patting him on the shoulder. He stepped over him and as he walked out the door, pulled out a banana and began eating it. He enjoyed the shell along with the banana, so he did not peel it. He exited out the front door of his house. Walter fell over onto the ground and started crying again.


	11. S1E11: Goin

Walt was ready. He stared at himself in the changing room mirror. His new fedora fit his style perfectly. He took a few more minutes to closely examine the fabric of the material, enjoying it's feel against his head. The soft fabric massaged the skin on his bald head. His eyes nearly rolled back into his head from the sheer pleasure of the hat on his scalp. Suddenly, his pleasure came to an end as he realized someone suspicious had come into the dressing room. Using his amateur third-eye abilities, he detected it was a man in his mid 40s, but he was unsure of who it could be. "Somewhere you should be, Walter?" said Mike.  
"No...I had- I had requested this day off, for...personal reasons." Walter said as he gripped his hat.  
"Walter, you know you don't get days off anymore. Boss man said so," Mike replied.  
"How about a half day? Mike, this is important, you need to listen to me!" Walter yelled in defiance. He was quickly dragged out of the dressing room in his undies by Mike. Mike dragged the screaming man all the way outside into his car, and locked the doors as he forcibly drove Walt to work. As Mike was driving, Walter's hairy arm reached past the front seat as he tried to switch the radio to his favorite pop station. The station began to play Halsey's "Bad at Love" and Walter's screaming began again, insisting that this was 'garbage' and demanding that Mike switch stations. Mike turned off the radio entirely. Mike began to eat a pimento sandwich as they drove to work.  
"Oh, I get it, Mike, you just don't care about our safety at all, YEP, JUST GONNA PIG OUT WHILE YOU'RE DRIVING ON THE ROAD! SHAME ON YOU, MIKE! SHAME ON-" Walter yelled before the car came to a stop.  
"Walter, here's what is going to happen. You're gonna sit in the back, and shut your trap. I'm gonna sit here nice and quiet too, eat my pimento sandwich, and take you to work. Do you understand?" Mike said, staring at Walter with a blank expression.  
"Fine," Walt said, waiting until Mike turned back to the steering wheel before he opened his door and started running down the street in his underwear. Mike immediately got out and grabbed his boomerang from the front seat. He threw the object in Walter's direction and watched as it grabbed Walter by the neck and dragged him back toward the car, landing him on his back. Mike walked over and dragged Walter back to the car, laughing a bit as he picked up his trusty boomerang.  
"You've never failed me, Maria," Mike said endearingly before putting the boomerang in his back pocket. Walter groaned in pain, knowing that he could have dodged the boomerang had he not had his hat on.  
Mike was surprised - after the initial incident with the boomerang, he hadn't heard Walter say anything for nearly half an hour. Suddenly, Walter began to complain about his bladder, and demanded that Mike pull over to the nearest gas station.  
"Walter, we're in the middle of the desert - you can hold it," Mike replied.  
"It's my word against yours, Mike. Do you want me to ruin your nice car? Is that what you want?" Walter said, getting progressively more frustrated.  
"I'll tell you what, Walter, if you urinate in my car, you can forget about the cook and go ahead and get a barrel ready."  
"YOU NEED ME, MIKE. YOU WON'T ADMIT IT, BUT THIS OPERATION FAILS WITHOUT ME. EITHER YOU PULL OVER, OR I PULL OUT." Walter screamed as he grabbed his dick. Walter shrieked in surprise as Mike threw a water bottle at him. Walter sighed and began to remove his undies, placing his bare ass on the backseat, and attempt to squeeze his member into the opening of the bottle. Walt tried over and over to coerce his penis into the meager opening, but found that it was an impossible task.  
"Mike, I can't... Do you happen to know what a chode is?" Walter said with a sigh. Mike, finally having had enough of Walter's shit, kept his foot on the gas as he reached into the backseat and forced Walter's dick into the water bottle. Walter screamed in pain and shock as his dick fit into the bottle, but his bladder forcibly released creating a seated bottle of piss attached to his dick.  
"Are you done?" Mike asked.  
"Yes- I mean, I can't...remove it. I can't walk around like this, Mike. I can't COOK LIKE THIS, MIKE!" Walter said, irritated by Mike and his actions. Mike once again reached into the back seat and forcefully tugged the water bottle off of Walter's dick, as Walter yelped. Mike tossed the bottle out of the window, leaving Walter silent for another 30 minutes.  
Seemingly out of nowhere, a rocket landed behind the house addressed 308 Negra Arroyo Lane. It was in relatively good condition, but all was known about it was the muffled 'GOOD LUCK, BUDDY!' announced from within. Jesse was rapidly thrown out of the rocket before it blasted off yet again. Looking around at his surroundings, he began laughing hysterically and vomitting at the same time. Jesse had gone completely apeshit. He looked like how he did when he was held captive by the white supremacists in the last episode of breaking bad and his hair was all grown out and he had like scars and shit it was fucked up dude. Having somewhat readjusted to Earth's gravity, Jesse started to come to his senses and realize what had just been done to him. His laughter was brought to a stop as he realized what he needed to do.  
Within 15 minutes, Jesse returned to Walt's house with a massive bulldozer. His face was almost blank with a somewhat pleased hint as he tore through Walter's driveway, up towards his home. As Jesse began to tear through the part of the house which was Holly's room, he became suddenly overcome with joy as he screamed in satisfaction at his actions. Next, he steered his way into what would be Flynn's room, and began to destroy it with reckless abandon. Before he could get to Walt's room, though, he heard police sirens and came to a stop. He looked back to see Walt's brother in law with a gun pointed at him.  
"FREEZE, BUDDY!" Hank said. 


	12. A White Christmas

As Walter waited in the superlab for Jesse to arrive, he finished eating a bag of hot cheetos. Jesse eventually arrived, and as he walked down the stairs he greeted Walt with a 'Merry Christmas!".  
An expressive grimace formed on Walter's face as he slowly looked up at Jesse.  
"'Merry' Christmas? Tell me Jesse. Just explain to me this one thing, please, I beg of you to explain this to me. How, in what world, is this Christmas, MERRY?" Walter said, standing up from his chair and pointing his finger at Jesse. "Lighten up, man, I mean, what's your problem?" Jesse replied.  
"My 'problem', Jesse, is that you're being...you're being a moron! This is NOT a merry Christmas. This is a terrible Christmas. Anyone who says otherwise is purely ignorant." Walter said, turning away from Jesse in disgust.  
"Listen, just because your family hates you don't mean you gotta take it out on the rest of us, okay?!" Jesse exclaimed.  
"How DARE you bring my family into this, as if it has anything to do with this discussion." Walter screamed, storming up to Jesse's face.  
"What is it, then? Your cancer come back? Because that would be a CHRISTMAS FUCKING MIRACLE!" Jesse screamed back.  
Without hesitation, Walter screamed and punched Jesse in the face. Jesse, recovering from the blow, looked back at Walter's venomous facial expression in disbelief. Now filled with anger and Christmas spirit, Jesse charged head first into Walter, tackling him to the ground. The two scuffled for a few minutes until the exit opened as Mike entered to break up the fight. After Mike removed the two grown ass men from each other, he stopped and looked at Walter. "Merry Christmas, Walter," said Mike before pulling out a BLT and taking a massive bite out of it.  
"MERRY CHRISTMAS MY FAT WHITE ASS, MIKE." Walter replied.  
"Do I have to tell our boss about what happened here, or are you going to be good for once?" Mike asked the rhetorical question in a dull manner.  
"I would like to continue my job without any unwaranted politically-correct holiday nonsense around me, Mike. If we could all do that, everything will be fine. Just fine. Just GREAT, in fact." Walter said, his face almost fixated in a permanent frown.  
"Why don't you take the day off, Walter? The kid and I can handle it from here, I'm sure," Mike replied.  
"No. No, no no no no no no. You're not going to kick me out of here, Mike. This is my job. I'm in charge of this lab. It's MY LAB. I want to cook, so if you'll please excuse yourself, we can begin this multi-million dollar operation, might I add." Walter said, charging up towards Mike.  
Mike stopped his vehicle outside of Walter's house (which was currently empty) before throwing the bitter, flailing man out onto the driveway. "Just because Santa brought you coal, doesn't mean you gotta be an ass, Walter." Mike said, driving off. Walt brushed himself off and went into his house, heading straight for Walter Jr's room. He immediately went to /r/atheism and began to type a new post. "Christmas is a bullshit made-up holiday - it exists only to serve mankind's selfish desire to worship a false deity," he began. Furiously typing on Walter Jr's keyboard, he continued "I am so sick of everyone telling me to lighten up and enjoy the holiday, why should I? It means nothing to me." as sweat dripped onto the keyboard from his sheer anger causing his body temperature to rise. His body temperature began to falter, however, after he received many positive replies to his post. A comment by someone with the username 'meannastybuddy56' told him that he is being melodramatic. Fed up with the internet, he stormed around the house breaking and then repairing things until he tired himself out. He laid in his bed with a glass of wine and realized Skyler was probably not coming home tonight, so he could use the bed for whatever purpose he desired. He knew exactly what he wanted to do.  
Two hours later, he had arranged the bed to have a canopy on top, with drapes that were made from Skyler's dresses. It was perfect, he was living like a king finally, as he deserved all this time. Getting back into bed, he closed the canopy and turned on Spotify to listen to Selena Gomez' soothing voice - he had a playlist with all of his comforting songs on it. He drifted off to sleep, only wearing his briefs in his bed.

Three hours later, the clock struck midnight. He woke up, his house suddenly feeling ominous with his new drapes surrounding his bed. A shadow appeared on them and he heard faint whispering in a voice seemingly familiar to him. It continued to call 'HEY BUDDY' in a grizzly, hoarse tone that sounded as if death itself was in the room with Walter. He stayed in his bed as the figure disappeared, convincing Walter it was probably nothing. But all of a sudden, he saw a specter floating above him, in the form of none other than his brother-in-law Hank Schrader. "Hey, buddy, I'm the ghost of christmas past! Ha!" Walter screamed and tried to exit his bed, falling onto the ground tangled in his curtains. He crawled rapidly as Hank laughed. Getting up, he ran into the hallway, and as he entered the kitchen he slipped on one of those cardboard wrapper things that they have around hot pockets, falling onto his back and hitting his head against the floor. Hank picks Walter up by his underwear and slams him down onto the floor, sending Walter back two years into the past. It was the first Christmas he had since he started cooking with Jesse, and he was observing himself as he cooked meth in the RV with Jesse. 'Follow me' by Uncle Kracker was playing as he watched this memory.  
"Hey man, I got you this. Merry Christmas." Jesse said, handing Walt a poorly wrapped package. Walter examined it for a moment, excited for the contents inside. He knew it had to be his favorite thing: money. Cash. Dollars. Green. Dead presidents. Cheese. Cheddar. Steam wacky-bucks. Dough. Dinero. Moolah. Coin. Paper. Loot. Dosh. Cabbage. Franklins. Pesos. Lincolns. Jacksons. He unwrapped it to find it was none of the previously described slang words for money, instead it was a mug that said 'WORLDS BEST METH COOK'. He scowled before attempting to beat Jesse with the mug.  
"WOW, I DONT KNOW BUDDY, THATS PRETTY RUDE AND ALL," Hank commented. "How? I can't provide for my family with a mug, Hank. I needed money and he knew it. He was basically asking for it," Walt replied.  
"BUDDY, YOU'RE MISSING THE POINT. HERE, LET ME SHOW YOU SOME MORE! HEH." Hank replied with a smirk as he elbowed Walter in the face, sending him again into the past. This time, it was the second Christmas since making meth with Jesse. He viewed himself in his underwear making meth again. Jesse was there, looking useless as usual. Again, 'Follow me' by Uncle Kracker played.  
"I think I'm gonna head out. I don't wanna spend all Christmas making meth, man." Jesse said, standing up from his seat.  
"You're going to LEAVE? To do what? What else could be more important than this, Jesse?" Walter said, dropping what he was doing to lecture Jesse.  
"I don't know man, stuff. It's Christmas. It's just one day." Jesse said defensively.  
"You just want to go get high with your junkie girlfriend, don't you? You're pathetic. You have no drive, no ambition, you cannot even amount to that of a good meth cook because you're so lazy and unmotivated to be productive with your life. Oh it's Christmas? Screw your Christmas, Jesse. In fact..." Walter said, walking over to the RV door. He slid a lock in place over the door and swallowed the key whole.  
"It's going to be several hours before I pass the key, Jesse. You're not leaving until then, so you might as well cook." He said, returning to what he was doing.  
"WHAT THE HELL, MAN!?" Jesse screamed, before attempting unsuccessfully to kick down the door or break the windows.  
"YOU THINK MAYBE YOU OVERREACTED A LITTLE BIT, HUH BUDDY?" Hank said.  
"No." Walter stated, simply. Hank spent three hours taking Walter through several more instances in which he showed a strong lack of Christmas spirit, in every single instance 'Follow me' by Uncle Kracker played. Not a single time did Walt ever realize the error of his ways.  
"ALRIGHT, YOU KNOW WHAT, BUDDY? IT'S TIME FOR SOME TOUGH LOVE. IF YOU DONT START SHOWING SOME CHRISTMAS SPIRIT, ILL TAKE ALL OF YOUR MONEY AND BURN IT. JUST TRY ME, BUDDY." Hank said, to a now dumbfounded Walt.  
"Alright, no need for that...by the way, I have no memory of listening to Uncle Kracker that much. It seems excessive." Walt replied nervously.  
"OH BUDDY, HAH, THAT'S ME! WHOOPS!" Hank replied, pulling his iPhone out of his old-timey man dress.  
Walter woke up the next day in his bed. He checked the money he stored in the vent, and it was still there. He was thrilled and full of Christmas spirit. A knock at the door interrupted his celebration that he still had his money, and he ran to the door in his underwear to see who it was. It was Jay Park, the employee who replaced Tyrus.  
"Somewhere you should be?" Jay Park said with a blank face.  
Walter smiled with joy, realizing the laundromat Christmas party was today. He hugged Jay Park before slamming the door to get dressed in his Santa outfit.  
Arriving to the party, he walked around jolly and happy as ever, even giving Gus a gift even though it was only a coupon to Los Pollos Hermanos. He sat down in a chair and told that he's available for anyone to ask for gifts. Jesse nervously walked up and sat down on his lap, looking anxious.  
"And what do you want, little boy?" Walter said with a smile.  
"I want...uh...an xbox...a ps4...a-a new car..." Jesse said, pausing and wiping tears from his eyes. "I want Jane back."  



	13. S1E12: The Return

Walter emitted a high pitched scream as his apartment door was suddenly kicked down. Behind the door was Jesse, having returned from his space odyssey. "Jesus Christ, Jesse! What the hell!?" Walter yelled, turning away without pausing the game that was playing on his flatscreen TV.  
"You... You FORCED ME TO SPEND EIGHT MONTHS, ALONE, IN SPACE!" Jesse screamed, letting all of the anger of the past few months out. Suddenly the sound of flames and death blared from Walter's TV. Walter turned back.  
"Christ! And you just killed me, Jesse. Remind me, Pinkman, when have I ever interrupted YOU while you were playing Portal?" Walt said, angrily. "THERE WAS A ROBOT, SOME KIND OF AI OR SOME SHIT THAT CONTROLLED EVERYTHING I DID " Jesse screamed, tears beginning to stream down his face.  
"Jesse, Jesse. Listen to me. I think you're overreacting a bit. It's natural to be emotional after going into space - it's truly awe-inspiring and beautiful, but you can't let your emotions control you. Just calm down before you say anything else." Walter said, his attention going back to playing his game.  
"Congratulations, the test is now over," a robotic voice said in Walter's game. Walter began rubbing his hands together.  
"Hahaha, here comes my CAKE!" Walter yelled, as he was more excited than he'd ever been in the last six months.  
"Thank you for participating in this Aperture Science computerated enrichment activity," the robotic voice continued, as fast, tense techno music began to play and Walter's player character began to descend towards flames.  
"Wh... What? NO. NOOO!" Walter screamed.  
"HOW IS THIS EVEN POSSIBLE? This isn't how this works! I was promised CAKE!" Walter said, throwing his controller at the TV and smashing it. He walked over to his xbox, like the first edition xbox. The one that barely worked ever if you remember that one? The one before the 360 and shit. He had that one. Somehow portal works on it. I don't want to hear complaints over continuity. Anyway, he opened the disc slot in it and took the game out and marched over to Jesse.  
"This should be your concern Jesse. Not 'oh I was in space for 8 months', THIS." Walter said, spitting on Jesse's face as his fury built up. "I don't give a SHIT what that is, Mr. White. What the fuck is wrong with you?" Jesse said in response.  
"Listen to me Jesse. Listen to me very carefully. In life, there are some things that are worth your concern and emotions, and other things are not. Your space non-issue? It's a non-issue. This game? This affects me. This affects all of us. It affects the consumer, most importantly, and that is why this is such a problem for us. If a company is allowed to release such a - such a shady, half put together game, then what's stopping anyone from doing anything? We could make shake and bake meth all day then, because people will buy it! Did I mention that in no way - not even in an alternate universe, a fictional one at that, would there EVER be an AI smart enough to destroy a human? We think faster. We make decisions not just based on what we were programmed to think but with something else, something...innately human in us, Jesse. I can't believe that you're allowing this...this trivial space thing to distract you from how disappointed I am in this shoddy piece of junk game. It's a testament to how small your vision is, Jesse. Truly." Walter ranted as Jesse thought he was losing his mind.  
"Listen, old man. You're not getting away with this," Jesse began. "As soon as possible, I am going to kill you. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!? YOU'RE DEAD, MR. WHITE!" Jesse yelled before leaving Walt alone in his apartment. Before Walt began to process what had just happened, his phone rang. "Yello?" Walter said, answering the phone.  
"Walt. Our house is destroyed! What the hell did you do?" Skyler said, audibly crying.  
"There you go again, blaming me for everything. What if there was an earthquake, Skyler? What then?" Walt replied.  
"Walt, I'm not kidding. It's destroyed. It's all...why did you do this? What happened Walt? I'm scared." Skyler said, covering her face with her hands as she cried. Walter realized quickly that it wasn't one of Skyler's bitch fits or epic pranks, and got in his car and drove to his house. It was as if someone drove a bulldozer and knocked over it, right through the living room. He got out of his car and frantically searched around for who could have done this. Suddenly, he noticed a bag of funyuns laying on the ground in his kitchen. That motherfucker. That total piece of shit. Walter was going to really poison Brock this time.  
Gus sat down at the head of the table as the meeting was adjourned. Also at the table was Tuco, Krazy 8, Tio Salamanca, The Cousins, Tyrus, and Gale. "Good evening, gentlemen," Gus began. "I'm quite aware that we all have many differences, but one thing we all share is a... disdain for a certain individual. We all know who I speak of. Before we can resume our own personal endeavors, we must eliminate him." At some point while Gus was talking, Tuco had snuck out of his chair and dug through a container of chicken batter for a bag of meth. The attention was brought to him as he loudly snorted it off of a knife and turned to face the others.  
"I'M GONNA GIVE THAT FUCKER EBOLA, I'M GONNA RIP HIS HEAD OFF AND SHOVE IT INTO HIS URETHRA THEN MAKE HIM PISS IT OUT, I'M GONNA FUCKING EAT HIS FACE WITH MY GRILL WHEN I GET IT BACK FROM THAT SON OF A BITCH" Tuco screamed. The group of no longer deceased individuals erupted into chaos as they all screamed and yelled about how they would murder Walter White. But one man was not expressing his excitement. Gus had no intent on resting until Walter White was dead. He started to plan it all out in his mind. 


	14. S1E13: The Brewskies Part 2

Gus pulled up his big boy pants and got out his Fisher Price cell phone to call up the gang. He liked it because the buttons were big, brightly colored for him to identify easier, and the numbers were clearly labelled so he would not become confused and have an oopsies in his new big boy pants. After carefully pressing the glowing, neon buttons with pictures of animals on them, he was on the line with the cousins. Roughly 3 minutes of discussion entirely in spanish took place, and the call ended. "O mi papa," said one of the cousins. The other one nodded back. They both looked on in unexpressed shock at the ruins before them. Walter's house had been completely destroyed. They checked the debris to make sure that someone else hadn't gotten to him first. As they peered through the ruins, one of the cousins attempted to lift a piece of wood and cut a piece of his glove off in the process. After finding no bodies in the debris, the cousins left.  
Hank was ready. "Haha, it's gonna be another ASAC Schrader day!" he said into the bathroom mirror as he brushed his teeth. He rubbed on his scalp as he admired himself in the mirror for a few minutes afterward, then tried to wheel out of the bathroom only to find that he had gotten himself stuck wheeling in as the bathroom door was very narrow. "MARIE!" Hank screamed.  
"What is it, Hank? I'm on the phone," Marie replied from the other room.  
"COME HERE RIGHT NOW!" He screamed yet again.  
"Hank, I am on the phone with your doctor right now. Handle it yourself!" Marie said before resuming the conversation with Hank's doctor. "MARIE, IF YOU AREN'T IN HERE IN ABOUT FIVE SECONDS, I'M GONNA SHIT ON THE FLOOR, AND YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO CLEAN IT UP. FIVE..." Hank began the countdown. "I'm sorry, sir, I'm going to have to cut this conversation short, I think Hank is having an accident," Marie said to the doctor, hanging up the phone and running as fast as she possibly could across the house.  
"FOUR..." Hank continued.  
"HANK, I'M COMING, DON'T DO IT!" Marie yelled as she kept running.  
"THREE... RRRRRRRRRRRR..." Hank began grunting. "IT'S GONNA BE A BIG ONE!" Marie was able to make it there before Hank had reached to only to find that Hank had already shit everywhere in their bedroom. Hank was currently on the floor in a pile of his own feces. "SEE, HONEY... THIS IS... WHAT YOU GET! NOW CLEAN IT UP!" He yelled.  
"No. I'm not doing this anymore, Hank. You created this problem, YOU fix it!" Marie said, her eyes welling up with tears of frustration as she stormed out. -holy shit the fuckin government just shut down wtf thats crazy donald trump man-  
Hank sighed in anger as he was left with his own mounds of shit to clean up. Hank, unable to move his feet, slid around in the filth as he desperately reached for the toilet paper just slightly out of reach. He grunted and used one of his hands to support his weight, which was admittedly quite a lot, as he was a hefty man. His bellowing gut caused him to slip and fall face first into brown, slimy residue bellow him. Letting out an anguished cry, he smeared the doo-doo off his face and grabbed onto the toilet seat, lifing himself up just enough for his torso to hang above the bowl.  
"I got you now, you little-" Hank said as he reached with one arm to the toilet paper, his other arm supporting his weight on the toilet seat. As he reached for the toilet paper, he noticed the toilet wobbling from the pressure he put on it. In that moment, Hank felt a brief moment of regret for the amount of cheetos and fritos he consumed on a daily basis. I mean, a bag a week is usually not a huge deal for someone who can walk, but Hank had purchased so many BBQ Fritos and hot cheetos that he invested stock into the company. He glanced up and noticed that the cinderblock he placed on a shelf above the toilet was also managing to wiggle out of its position from his gigantic mass of flesh he calls his body. He felt no regret for his placement of the cinderblock - it completed the aesthetic of the room. Before he could react, the cinderblock fell directly onto his head. Hank was knocked to the floor with a loud 'thud', and laid there for a moment with a cinderblock pressing into his skull. Opening his eyes, Hank had a moment of clarity.  
"That's it," he said, aloud. He scrambled through the shit back to his wheelchair and immediately started writing down physics equations on a piece of notebook paper.  
"Wormholes. We didn't even consider wormholes," Hank said, now in an aristocratic transatlantic accent, having just solved the problem of light-speed travel. He had to tell Walt - he would know what to do next, surely. Driving onto Negra Arroyo Lane, Hank found his brother in law's house torn completely apart. Parking perfectly parallel to the curb, he got out of his car into his wheelchair and began investigating. As he entered the debris, he saw a piece of cloth with blood on it. Hank licked the blood, and suddenly a wave of memories hit him. Parking lot. Phone call. Axe. Gunshot.

This was Cartel work. But what would the Cartel want with Walt? Suddenly, the realization hit Hank like a ton of cinderblocks. Walter was in his hotel room with his family, unpacking his PORTER-CABLE 7424XP 6-Inch Variable-Speed Polisher to use on his scalp when he heard the familiar sound of Hank's wheelchair rolling in the hallway. Instinctively, he threw the machine under the bed to keep Hank from knowing his secret to his good looks. He waited for 5 minutes, expecting Hank to have difficulties moving his stupid ass chair into the hallway. It's not like it's challenging, but Hank isn't the brightest egg around, you know? "Walter, please answer the door." Hank said, attempting to see through the crack of the door. He watched the shadows from under it, noticing Walter's exact movements. He calculated in his mind that it would take him less than 5 seconds to reach the door, and became concerned for Walter's health when it took him 10.  
"Hank?" Walter said, cracking the door open slightly. "Is everything... alright?" "Ye-" Hank paused. He couldn't sound smart to Walt without it offending him. He knew Walter was insecure about a number of things, and his intelligence being attacked could cause more DRAMA in this FUCKING FAMILY.  
"YEAH BUDDY, I'M... I'M GREAT. CAN I COME IN. PLEASE." Hank said, cringing at his tone of voice.  
"o yea sure ok" Walt replied, opening the door entirely for his giant wheelchair.  
Hank wheeled in and looked around the room. Flynn was sitting on the bed, staring at a wall. Holly was lying in her crib screaming as if she was dying. Skyler was sitting in a chair near the window with a bottle of wine, taking large gulps from it every so often. "OH MAN" was the only thing going through his mind.  
"SO, UH, B-BUDDY, WHAT'S UP WITH YOUR HOUSE?" Hank asked, his face showing disgust and anxiety from the general vibe of the room he was in.  
"Oh Hank, you'll never believe this - it's a mess. I come home after you know, I was out shopping, and I remembered I had turned the stove on to bake a cake for Skyler. Well, I forgot that I left some old explosives from my chemistry class in the oven and it just... BOOM! Right through the wall, Holly's room... I was lucky she was alright when I got in there! She's definitely permanently deaf, though. Like that's not something that will ever change. She's deaf. Anyways, that's how it was. Just a mistake on my part... an expensive one!" Walter dragged on.  
"UH HUH... THAT'S CRAZY BUDDY. EXPLOSIVES ARE AWFULLY PERNICIOUS." Hank replied.  
Walter glared at him for a moment. What the fuck does pernicious mean? In all of Walter's education and his vast knowledge of science and chemistry, never in his gotdamn life had he heard that word used in a sentence. Something was awfully fishy here, and it wasn't just the baked cod that he had for dinner. Before he could respond to that, Skyler started chortling and wheezing.  
"Yeah, okay Walter. That's exactly what happened. You got it. You have such good memory." she said, tears streaming down her face from laughter.  
"WELL, UH, HOW ABOUT WE GO TO MY PLACE FOR A BIT? GET YOU SOME FRESH AIR, HUH BUDDY?" Hank laughed, slapping Walter on the leg.  
"Oh...yeah, sure. That sounds good." Walter said, keeping one of his eyes on Hank and the other on the door, in case something was up.  
After a long drive to Hank's house due to him insisting that he could drive using a pulley system he designed in his car to allow him to operate it, they arrived and began to have a good old chat on Hank's nice ass couch. Walter was sitting, looking around the room attempting to find something wrong with it. All of the minerals on the walls were the same, the various cartoon asian women were still the same, several policewoman outfits with very realistic handcuffs were again, still the same. Nothing was out of place. Suddenly, Marie walked in the room, wearing a full officers outfit. "Hank, are you ready? I'm all dressed up, I've got my taser..." Marie yelled before realizing Walt was in the room. "Oh Jesus Hank! You didn't tell me Walt was here!" she added, storming off.  
Hank then wheeled in, carrying a 6 pack of brewskies. They still had "WALTER WHITE" on them, the writing smeared a bit from his attempts to share it with his buddy Walter. "SO, BUDDY, HOW ABOUT IT? WANT SOME BREWSKIES?" Hank said with a shit eating grin on his face as he set them down on the coffee table in front of Walt. Walt stared down at them, then back at Hank, then back at the brewskies, then back at Hank. "I need a moment." Walter said, quickly exiting the room and into Hank's garage. He began frantically searching for something to turn into ricin. He turned over every box, cabinet and rug but could not find a single thing to poison Hank... until he noticed the framed picture of Marie and Hank on his table. It was taken when they were dating, very young and happy with their lives. It was perfect. Walt began the process of destroying the photo down to a white, poisonous powder inhaled it into his nostrils, just enough to keep it there for a perfect sneeze. It was time. Walter walked back into the room to see Hank blankly staring at a wall like a skyrim NPC when you're not talking to them.  
"I'm ready for a brewski, Hank." Walter said, sitting down nervously.  
"FINALLY, BUDDY, WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG...TAKING UH, A DUMP?" Hank laughed awkwardly, handing him a can of unopened beer with his name on it. Hank opened his own as well.  
"CHEERS, BUDDY!" Hank said with a smile. Before he could take a drink, Walter's face began to recoil.  
"AAA..." Walter said "DON'T DO IT BUDDY, GET A TISSUE!" Hank screamed "AAAAAAAA..." Walter continued "BUDDY, COME ON, WE'VE GOT LOTS OF TISSUES!" Hank screamed louder, begging Walter for just one fucking thing "AAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOO" Walter sneezed, covering the area in a mixture of snot and white powder. He glanced at Hank's can, noticing that enough must have entered the opening to kill this bastard.  
"GESUNDHEIT, BUDDY!" Hank laughed before he chugged the can of beer like an animal in front of him. It took him less than 10 seconds to finish the entire can. After a number of uncomfortable glances, Hank realized that mother nature was calling. Urgently, he spinned his wheelchair around and darted to the bathroom. It was in ruins from earlier, still caked in his own fecal matter that Marie refused to clean up. In this moment, Hank felt what most people feel which is called 'empathy'. He cared about Marie, her feelings on the matter, and what he did to her. He decided the best course of action would be to clean it up, so he rolled off of his chair and began his attempts at cleaning up the vast amounts of feces on the floor. It was less than 2 minutes before Hank's bowels could no longer be contained, as he began to shit his goddamn pants. "OH GOD" Hank yelled, lying on the floor with his asshole projectile spewing waste out of him. He squirmed as he continued to try and clean the mess, the ricin poisoning worsening his overflow of dung. Hank's consciousness began to fade as he wiggled on the floor like an insect, desperately trying to fix the mess he had created. But it was for nothing, as Hank began to stop moving while his organs shut down. Hank was dying, and this is where his body would be, in a pile of his own shit. In a last moment before God damned his soul to hell, he reached for the cinderblock on the floor from earlier, pulling himself closer to the toilet as to make it seem like he had an accident. It wouldn't be too bad if people assumed he had died from an accident, and not just his own goddamn fuckin' stupid shit he pulls all the time. He managed to leverage himself closer before his heart stopped, leaving him dead on his bathroom floor.  
Gustavo scrolled through CNN on his Fisher-Price phone and stopped as he saw the headline "TOP LAW ENFORCEMENT OFFICIAL DEAD IN OWN FECAL MATTER" as he recognized Hank in the thumbnail. Reading the article, he knew this could only be the work of Walter White. Picking up a rough, white book with the text LIFE NOTE on it, he began to write Mr. Schrader's name. 


End file.
